


Ordeals of the Maker

by stealyourshiny



Series: Tests of the Maker [4]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Humor, BAMF Anders, Character Death, Claustrophobia, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Drama, Lost Family Found, M/M, Past Abuse, Political Intrigue, Post-Dragon Age II, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wonky Warden Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:38:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 44,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealyourshiny/pseuds/stealyourshiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking place at the same time as "Patriot Games" - The Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens has been called to Weisshaupt. Anders goes, taking Fenris with him. The trip is quite eventful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Why is it that I have to go?” Anders whined, even as the cart was being loaded with a bag.

“Because you are the Commander and they are asking for the Commander,” Nathaniel replied, tossing a second bag in and then a third.

“They obviously meant Feyar, not me,” the mage whined a little more, fixing Nathaniel with a forlorn look.

“Yes, well she’s not here, now is she? You have to go, Anders. Look at the bright side, at least Fenris agreed to go with you.”

The elf was already sitting in the cart, wrapped in a new, winter coat. It was still fall in Ferelden, but he was not used to weather like this, even Kirkwall had been warmer. Fenris huffed in annoyance at Anders’ waffling, glaring down at the mage and the rogue. Nathaniel sighed and shrugged up at the white-haired elf, powerless.

“I’m the most wanted man in Thedas! What if we’re captured or waylaid or something?” Anders argued.

“You’ll be on a specially chartered Grey Warden ship going straight to Cumberland and then travelling with a supply caravan up the Imperial Highway to Vol Dorma and across to Weisshaupt. You’ll be fine,” Nathaniel told him. He handed some coin up to Fenris and stood, waiting for Anders to climb into the cart.

“Come, mage, we will miss the ship,” the elf growled. Anders finally took a deep breath and climbed into the cart next to Fenris. Nathaniel nodded to the driver and waved as it trundled its way out of the courtyard and north, toward Amaranthine.

“I hate my life,” Anders moaned when the Keep was out of sight.

“Why do you insist on moaning about everything?” Fenris said, looking toward the sky and pursing his lips in annoyance. “It is your duty as the new Commander. You must do it. You accepted the role.”

“I know! Dammit, I know!” Anders snapped, putting his head into his hands and sighing. “I... I just... I don’t want to go to Weisshaupt. I don’t want to go anywhere near the damn Anderfels.”

Anders laid back against the bags and closed his eyes tightly.

“Just... wake me when we have to get on the ship.”

“Fine.”


	2. Part One: The Ship

“No!”

“Commander!”

“No!”

“Please!”

“....Andraste’s bloody tits, Connor!” Anders ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He and Fenris were standing on the dock of Amaranthine. The Grey Warden ship was there, their bags had been taken on board, and then Fenris had found the teenager hiding under some burlap in the wagon.

“Please Commander, you don’t know my mother! I... I’ll carry bags! I’ll clean your boots! I’ll polish your weapons!” Connor was practically begging. In fact, at that moment, the brown-haired teen fell to his knees in front of Anders, which made the mage blush darkly in light of his last words.

“Maker’s balls, Connor, get up,” Anders said, pulling the teenager to his feet. He looked over at the elf, who was pointedly looking out at the water. “This is ridiculous. Do you know how many mages at the Circle would have killed to have their parents visit them? Their parents _want_ them?”

“They can have her! For the love of the Maker, Commander, please don’t send me back to the Keep, she’ll... she’ll try to hide my magic again and force me to marry an Orlesian Countess! It will be _horrible_!” Connor then turned his greatest weapon onto the mage: puppy eyes. The boy had the largest, most wibbly-looking blue eyes in the entire universe, and the only other person Anders knew that could use his eyes like that was Fenris. Not that Fenris knew he could do it. Then again, perhaps he did know and his appearance of ignorance was only a ruse. Sneaky bastard.

“Fine! Okay! You can be the bag boy! Maker, just get on the damn boat,” Anders replied, throwing his hands into the air. Connor threw his arms around the mage ecstatically before running up the gangplank and onto the ship, giving Anders no time to change his mind.

“What are you looking at?” Anders growled at the elf, who was still waiting on the dock with his arms crossed. Fenris turned his head toward the blond and raised his eyebrows.

“I am waiting for you to get onto the ship,” Fenris replied.

“I will get on the ship in my own time. Why don’t you go... make sure Connor doesn’t fall overboard or something?”

“I will not board the ship until after you do,” Fenris said calmly. He looked out at the water again, the autumn winds whipping his white hair around. Anders would have thought it was somewhat arousing if he wasn’t so incensed at the implication that he wouldn’t get on the boat unless Fenris made sure he did.

“I am perfectly capable of boarding a ship without a guard,” he snapped, reaching back to tie his own hair into a loose ponytail, the wind getting annoying. Fenris seemed to be ignoring him, but the elf straightened suddenly, shifting the new broadsword on his back. Anders followed his gaze and saw a woman in Grey Warden armour standing at the top of the gangplank. She stared at them for a moment before coming down onto the dock, her steps echoing loudly.

“Hello gentlemen,” she said, her face looking anything but welcoming. “Might I inquire if there is an issue?”

“No issue,” Anders replied. “Why?”

“I was just wondering if there was a reason you were down here on the dock, holding up my ship,” she replied, her voice was deadly calm.

“Ah... Um... Sorry,” Anders replied, looking up at the ship again and then back at Fenris. The elf gave him a meaningful look, but stayed where he was, waiting. Anders swallowed and looked at the annoyed Captain and back up at the ship before taking a deep breath and walking up the gangplank. He stopped when he got to the port side. He could do this. It was wide open up here. As long as he didn’t have to go below decks, he could get through this.

“Glad to finally have you on board, Commander-”

Anders turned around quickly to see the Captain and Fenris were behind him. She was clearly waiting for him to supply his name.

“Raghnall,” Fenris supplied. “I am Fenris. It is a pleasure, Captain.”

She turned to Fenris, looking at him critically for a moment, but his impassive expression seemed to answer some internal question and she nodded. Luckily, this meant that she missed the look of utter incredulity on Anders’ face as Fenris supplied his given name without batting an eye.

“Captain Soren. This is _The Griffin_ ,” she said, gesturing to the ship. “Your quarters are below deck, I’ve had the cabin boy take your bags there. Your... young friend is already down there.”

“Thank you Captain Soren,” Fenris said nodding to her. She glanced at Anders and then nodded to Fenris again.

“You’re both invited to my quarters for dinner this evening. Seven o’clock sharp. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my ship makes it out of the harbour in one piece. Fenris, Commander.” She stepped away from both of them, walking off with only a brief hesitation. Anders just continued to stare at Fenris, who gazed back impassively.

“How did you-?”

“Gerald said it in passing at the Tower,” Fenris replied shortly. “We can’t go around telling people what you prefer to go by. It’s not safe.”

“Maker, no one has said that name aloud within my hearing for...” Anders swallowed as he calculated how many years it had been. He winced inwardly. Too many. “A long time.”

Fenris only shrugged and crossed his arms. “We should go below and check on Connor.”

“You can go below. I’ll stay up here, thank you,” Anders replied, licking his lips nervously.

“No, you should come below too. You’ll get too cold up here, and you can’t stay up here until we get to Cumberland, you will freeze to death, _Raghnall_.”

“Nalls.”

“What?”

“That’s what my mother called me. Nalls,” Anders replied, looking out at the water as the ship moved further away from Amaranthine. He closed his eyes an sighed, taking deep breaths. The air was colder, and as much as he hated to admit it, Fenris was probably right about going below.

“Come on, An-Nalls,“ Fenris said, pursing his lips in annoyance. Anders smiled slightly and stood up straight.

“There is a sleeping draught in my bag. I brought a few and the ingredients for more if we need them,” he said. “If you bring it up to me, I... will be more pliant with going below deck.”

Fenris frowned, but nodded. The elf only hesitated a moment before leaving the mage alone on the deck with his thoughts. Anders leaned back against bulwark, watching the crew as they went about their duty. He would probably not be dining with the Captain that evening, or in fact, any evening unless she planned on eating on deck. He could handle most rooms and indoor areas if he had to, but ships...

He was sure that Fenris was aware of his aversion to at least going below decks, his experience on Isabela’s ship to Rivain exposing some of his fear. In fact, he’d been unconscious from a sleeping draught on the way to Gwaren when the sailors had hijacked the passengers and took them to Alamar instead. He’d managed to wake up and set a handful on fire, but he had not been at his best or strongest at the time.

Anders noticed Connor coming toward him, stumbling across the deck carefully from mast to mast until he stumbled right into Anders’ arms.

“Sorry Commander! I guess... I’m not used to sailing,” the teenager said sheepishly. He shuffled through his robes and pulled out a vial with greenish liquid in it and handed it to Anders. “Fenris said you wanted this, and that I had to call you Commander or Nalls?”

Anders nodded and took the potion from the lad, pulling out the stopper and tossing back a mouthful of the liquid. Just enough to knock him out for a few hours at the least. He put the cork back in and handed it to Conner.

“Keep that safe, I may break it accidentally. Make Fenris take some of it if he needs to. I know he hasn’t been sleeping well since the Joining,” Anders told Connor, coughing a little as the bitter liquid slid down his throat. He stood up straight and leaned on Connor a little with a smile. “Help an old man to his room, would you, Connor? I need to get there before the potion kicks in.”

Connor laughed at that, letting Anders lean on him. The teen’s lack of sea-legs certainly made their trek across the deck amusing. When they reached the ladder, Anders looked up at the sky, took a deep breath, and descended into the dark belly of the ship.


	3. Part Two: Dinner

“Are you sure he’ll be alright?” Connor was trailing behind Fenris as they made their way to the Captain’s cabin, practically stepping on the elf’s heels.

“He’ll be fine,” Fenris replied, rolling his eyes and sighing. It had been the fourth time the young man had asked since he’d helped Anders below decks.

“But-”

“Pounce is in there with him, and the sleeping draught will keep him sane for a while,” Fenris replied, and knocked on the Captain’s door. He heard a muffled command from inside and opened it.

The room was well lit and comfortable. Larger than the one they were sharing, even as special guests. There was a long table to one side with the Captain and a few other well-dressed people sitting around it. There were two vacant seats. Connor closed the door behind them and hid behind Fenris a little, suddenly nervous in a group of adults he didn’t know. Fenris snorted at the teenager and moved forward.

“Good evening Captain. I regret that Commander Raghnall will not be able to join us. He does not do well on ships and has taken a sleeping draught to calm himself,” Fenris said. The Captain nodded and gestured to the empty seats for Fenris and Connor.

“I understand, Fenris. May I introduce my First Mate? This is Nicklaus Farrell,” Soren gestured to a short, thin man with messy blond hair, who grinned and winked at Fenris.

“This is my Second Mate, Jared Aubrey,” she gestured to a taller man with brown hair and a thin beard.

“The ship’s Master, Ryla.” An elven woman with red hair.

“And the Pursar, Terak Nular.” The final officer was a dwarven man with steel grey hair and a huge beard. It made Fenris blink. Oghren did not have a beard so much as a huge mustache, Varric did not have a beard at all, and Sigrun was a woman. It was a little strange, to say the least.

“This is Connor,” Fenris said, gesturing to the young man who had sat beside him.

“Guerrin,” Connor supplied, biting his lip. “Connor Guerrin.”

A couple of the people at the table looked surprised, eyebrows raised, but no one said anything. Instead the food started to go around the table, everyone taking their fill. The crew had apparently been together for some time, they all talked and bantered like family. It reminded Fenris of Kirkwall, and of people he wished to see again someday.

“So, Ser Fenris,” Nicklaus began.

“Fenris.”

“Pardon?”

“Just Fenris.”

“Oh, well Fenris. I was curious about those tattoos you have on your chin and neck,” Nicklaus said, leaning forward, looking honestly interested. Fenris was somewhat thankful for the Grey Warden scout armour he’d been given permenantly after his Joining, it covered his markings much better than his old armour had. He should have expected such a question, he knew that people looked at him curiously, but Danarius’ death had been barely over a year ago, and the wounds were still fresh and difficult to talk about with strangers. Usually Anders or Nathaniel, and sometimes Sigrun would find a way to deflect the question for Fenris, allowing him to avoid answering.

Next to him, Connor’s fork stopped partway to his mouth, and he stared at Nicklaus with wide eyes. The room quieted suddenly as Fenris did not answer the question immediately, and Connor’s reaction had drawn some attention. After a moment of silence, Fenris licked his lips calmly.

“What do you wish to know?” he asked finally, looking up at the blond human as calmly as he could. It was proper that people would be curious. He knew that. It didn’t make it any less uncomfortable, however. The others were all watching Fenris and Nicklaus now, realising that perhaps the First Mate had found a touchy subject for the elf, and were curious as to how it would play out.

“I...” Nicklaus swallowed nervously now, his eyes flicking to the Captain. “I don’t mean to offend...”

“You haven’t yet,” Fenris replied. “It is natural that people are curious. I... am not used to idle questions.”

“I was... curious about the design. Is it Dalish?” Nicklaus raised his eyebrows, hoping that was an innocent enough question. Fenris pursed his lips slightly and glanced at the other elf in the room, Ryla, briefly before replying.

“No, I am not sure exactly what the design is mirrored after,” Fenris replied, wiping his mouth with a cloth and reaching for his glass of wine. With that reply, the rest of the table seemed to relax a little, going back to their own plates again. Connor finally bridged the gap from his fork to his mouth, chewing quickly and watching Fenris and the other people around the table carefully. Anders had made him promise to keep Fenris out of trouble.

“How can you not know? They are your tattoos, are they not? Did you not choose the design yourself?” Nicklaus looked confused, reaching for his own glass, his brow furrowed.

“No, I did not. My...” Fenris hesitated a moment. He had always referred to Danarius as his Master. Even when he had been living ‘freely’ in Kirkwall. It was a hard habit to break. “Former master chose the pattern.”

“Master? You were a slave?” Ryla spoke up then, her brown eyes wide and suddenly curious. Fenris took another sip from his glass, slightly annoyed. He did not want this conversation to become about him and his own past.

“...Yes, I was.”

“So they’re brands, of a sort. I apologise,” Nicklaus said then, bowing his head a little. “I did not mean to bring up a topic you would rather not discuss.”

Fenris shrugged lightly, but seemed relieved to not have to speak of it any longer.

“Fenris, how long as Raghnall been Commander in Ferelden? I was under the impression that the Hero of the Blight was Commander,” Soren said suddenly, from the head of the table.

“He has only been Commander officially for a few weeks,” Fenris replied, poking at the food on his plate. Fish. Yuck.

“Why is he Commander?”

“Because he was one of the most senior Wardens in the Keep, and the others elected him such,” Fenris replied, not looking up. He could hear, by the tone in the woman’s voice, that she was trying to wheedle information out of him. She had apparently been told to expect someone quite different from who came, and she wanted to know why.

“I apologise, Captain,” Fenris said finally, putting his fork down. He drained his glass of wine and wiped his mouth, nudging Connor gently as he did so. “I am quite fatigued at the moment, and think it would be best to retire to our quarters.”

Fenris stood up carefully and nodded his head to everyone present. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Connor shoved another bite into his mouth and swallowed his water in a hurry before standing to follow Fenris. The elf stood outside on the deck for a moment, breathing in the fresh night air.

“They didn’t look very happy that you’d left,” Connor told him as the door closed on the five officers.

“They can jump overboard,” Fenris snapped, and then took another breath. “I am not good with... people. Come along, let’s see how An-...Nalls is doing.”

Connor nodded and followed the elf back down into the belly of the ship, where Fenris only stopped briefly near the galley to pick up a plate for Anders if he was hungry.

The white-haired elf opened the door to their room and came in, setting the plate onto the small table there. A second hammock had been hung since the ship had launched for Connor, and Anders was asleep on the only cot. On top of him was a ball of orange fur that stretched out and yawned when they came into the room. Connor closed the door behind them and sat in a chair to remove his boots.

Fenris turned up the lantern a little and went over to Anders, picking the cat up and putting it onto the floor.

“A-Nalls?” Fenris said, stumbling over the new name. He was finding it difficult to remember when no one else was around, but he knew it would be best to remain in the habit even when they were alone.

Anders shifted a little, but didn’t wake up at first. Fenris put a hand on the mage’s shoulder and shook him gently.

“Nalls, wake up.”

“I don’t like socks,” he mumbled, pushing Fenris off with his shoulder. The elf rolled his eyes and shook the mage again.

“Nalls, I have food, wake up.”

“Huh?”

Fenris moved over to the plate as Anders sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and looking around. He would not stay awake long, Fenris could tell. The potion was strong and he wasn’t sure how much of it the mage had swallowed before he came below. The elf thrust the plate into Anders’ hands, only taking a bit of the fish and giving it to Pounce, who meowed and rubbed against Fenris’ leg in gratitude.

“Eat.”

“Okay.”

Fenris watched to make sure the mage put some bread into his mouth and would poke him whenever he’d start to doze off again mid-chew. Off to the side, Connor was trying to attempt to climb into his hammock without having it flip him back out again. He hadn’t yet braved the actual climbing in to the swinging bed.

“Drink.” The elf handed a cup of water to Anders, taking the plate while the mage drained it, before taking the cup back and giving him the plate again. This time he made sure the mage ate some meat. When the mage had eaten enough to satisfy the elf, Fenris put the plate to the side and let the mage curl up again.

It wasn’t long before Anders was snoring softly once more. Fenris sighed and shook his head. This was going to be a long two weeks at sea.


	4. Small Spaces

They were invited to dinner every night, but after that first dinner, Fenris always had Connor make up some excuse for him. The teenager would bring him and Anders food afterward however.

“They’re very nice,” Connor told him, handing the plate over. There was salted pork this evening. Which was much better than fish, in Fenris’ opinion.

“I’m sure,” the elf replied, wolfing down his food quickly. It was never enough. He was so hungry all the time. He thought the hunger was supposed to taper off and finally hit a somewhat bearable level after a few weeks, but no, it had been almost a month and he was still just as hungry now as he was then - maybe even more so.

Pounce purred and climbed onto Fenris’ lap to rub himself against the elf in a very un-subtle way.

“Oh, I brought some fish for Pounce,” Connor said, turning to Anders’ plate and pulling some of the fish off for the cat. “Anyway, they keep asking questions about Vigil’s Keep, and Commander Feyar, and You, and Nalls.”

“What did you tell them?” Fenris asked, looking up from his plate, his eyes narrowing slightly. He didn’t like how curious their Captain seemed to be, and the fact that they would be passing by Kirkwall in the next day or so had not escaped his attention.

At least Anders could still sleep through all of this. Bastard.

“I just told them that Commander Feyar had left some months ago on a mission and hasn’t returned. No one knows where she or Alistair are,” Connor said. “I didn’t tell them much about you or Nalls... then again, I couldn’t really answer the questions they were asking anyway because I don’t know myself.”

“They’re probably curious because they were told to expect the Hero of Ferelden, and instead they got a glowing elf and me.”

Fenris looked over to the cot where Anders was laying and saw the mage sit up, rubbing his eyes groggily. He was more coherent than he had been in days, and Fenris raised an eyebrow at him.

“The potion is starting to wear off,” Anders said. “I’m going to have to make more if I want to survive the rest of this voyage.”

“Why are you sleeping through it anyway?” Connor tilted his head to one side and frowned. Fenris glanced at the mage curiously himself, he had some sort of an idea, but Anders had never expressly stated his reasoning.

“Small spaces.”

He reached for the plate on the table that he assumed was his own and started to eat, ignoring the strange look Fenris was giving him. Pounce jumped off of the elf’s lap and sauntered over to Anders, rubbing against his leg contently.

“Brat, I didn’t teach you to beg, did Delilah let you do that?” Anders said, reaching down and handing the cat some of his fish.

“Small spaces?” Fenris prompted, still watching Anders.

“I don’t do small spaces well,” Anders replied with a light shrug. He was eating quickly, other than the occasional scrap he would pass off to the fluff-ball at his feet.

“You have been in caves and Darktown. You lived in a closet sized-space for seven years,” Fenris pointed out, the disbelief in his voice a little obvious.

“I could walk out of those into fresh air when I wanted to. I wasn’t confined,” Anders replied, pursing his lips. Also, Justice would help cajole him into some of the tighter spaces below the Gallows when needed, but Justice had been getting quieter and quieter since the Chantry Incident. They were still one, and he was still there, but the urgency wasn’t the same any longer. The spirit seemed content with their current role.

“Oh,” Connor blinked. “On a ship, you can only go above deck, and you can’t really stay there.”

“Right. And this room is only slightly larger than the solitary confinement rooms at Kinloch,” Anders replied, glancing around the room briefly. He met Fenris’ eyes as he did and the elf slowly nodded, understanding now. He had been in one of those rooms. He could not imagine spending an entire year there. Fenris looked away first, focusing on finishing his food.

Connor stared at the older mage and swallowed. “Um... do you need me to help with anything? I was never very good at herbalism.”

“I’ll be fine,” Anders replied softly. He fed more of his fish to Pounce and finished the rest of the food on his plate. He would need to get started on the potion soon. “I’m going to take a walk though. Get some fresh air, stretch my legs.”

“I’ll go with you,” Fenris said, standing up and stretching. Anders followed suit, pulling his boots on and walking with Fenris out the door. They reached the deck in silence; Anders immediately finding a solid place to lean against the bulwark and breathe.

“I hate ships,” he said softly when Fenris leaned against the wood next to him.

“I understand why now,” Fenris replied, turning so his back was against the railing. “I thought it was something to do with sea sickness.”

“No, just... the confined quarters,” Anders replied, smiling slightly. “It’s too bad, really. I’m missing all sorts of horrible chances to flirt shamelessly with you in front of Connor.”

Fenris rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “You would not do that.”

“Wouldn’t I? It would be amusing to see how much you blush in front of the teenager. In fact it’d be amusing to see how much _he_ would blush.” Anders smiled, watching the water slapping against the sides of the ship as they cut through it.

“We’re approaching Kirkwall,” Fenris said suddenly, his voice low. Anders stiffened, his eyes scanning the horizon quickly. “Other side.”

Anders turned around slowly, swallowing as he did so. He could see the rocks across from them, the towering cliffs that held the waterway into Kirkwall. If he squinted he though he could see some of the bronze statues that had been attached to those cliffs.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” he said softly, swallowing again. Fenris just nodded. “I wonder... how everyone is doing.”

“I’m sure they wonder the same of you,” Fenris replied with a delicate shrug. “I knew we would be passing it soon.”

“Perhaps we should go below again?” Anders offered. Fenris noticed that the mage seemed pale now. He nodded again and gestured for Anders to go first. The blond man walked shakily back to the ladder leading below decks, only just reaching it when someone called to them. Fenris looked back and noticed Nicklaus waving and walking across the deck to them.

“Ho there! Commander Raghnall! It’s good to see you up and about, ser!” Nicklaus smiled broadly at the mage and nodded to Fenris.

“Nalls, this is the First Mate. His name is Nicklaus.”

“Ferrell. Nicklaus Ferrell,” the blond man said with a bright smile, taking Anders’ hand into his own and shaking it vigorously. “We’ve missed you both at the evening meals. I hope you are feeling better, Ser?”

“It’s a pleasure, Ser Nicklaus,” Anders said, giving him a wane smile. “I’m afraid I am still feeling quite ill. I do not take to sea travel very readily.”

“That is too bad,” Nicklaus said, frowning slightly. He seemed genuinely concerned and disappointed to not have the chance to talk with Anders. “Is there anything we can do? We have a healer on board, she may have something that can help?”

Anders blinked and stared at the First Mate for a moment. “You... have a healer?”

“Yes, a young mage. She heals all the cuts and scrapes and broken bones we get around here, and if any fights break out she’ll fix that too. It didn’t even occur to me that she could help with sea sickness. We don’t tend to have many passengers, and when we do I don’t think many of them get sea sick very badly.” Nicklaus frowned a little and tapped his chin. “I could send her to your room if you like?”

“Yes, please. I think she may be able to help a great deal,” Anders said, nodding. Fenris frowned and pursed his lips. Another bloody mage. That would make three in one room with him.

“I’ll send her down. Her name is Katy,” Nicklaus said. He smiled at the two men and nodded to them. “I hope you both feel better, Sers.”

Anders thanked him again and took a deep breath before descending back into the bowels of the ship.

Katy turned out to be a mousy young lady with pretty blond curls and large brown eyes. Connor did not seem able to stop staring.

“I have all the ingredients,” Anders was saying, “but it’s...” He stopped, taking a few short breathes and swallowing. Fenris could see the mage was beginning to sweat a little and his eyes kept darting about the room.

“Would opening the door help?” Fenris offered with a frown. He hoped perhaps that would give Anders a sense of a larger space. The mage nodded, trying to get his breathing under control again. Fenris opened the door and turned back to see Katy going through the small medical bag that Anders had brought with them.

“Yes, I can make the draught for you, if that will help,” she said, obviously concerned. “I’m sorry, Commander. I’ve never been very good with Creation or Entropy magic. I would just cast sleep on you if I could.”

Katy took the ingredients and the notations that Anders had given her on how to make the potion and began to work. Fenris watched her for a moment before moving over and sitting next to Anders, concerned.

“Nalls, breathe,” he said softly, placing a hand on the mage’s back. Anders took a shuddering breath and tried to let it out slowly. Fenris watched him force his eyes open, looking at the open doorway, as if willing himself to believe the room was bigger. Pounce jumped up into Anders’ lap and meowed plaintively, curling up on the mage’s knees. It would never cease to amaze Fenris how in-tune that cat was with Anders’ emotional state. Fenris reached over and pet the cat gently, his hand still on Anders’ back.

“You’re okay, Nalls,” Fenris told him in a low voice, which seemed to help calm Anders a little. The blond man reached over and took Fenris’ free hand, gripping it tightly as he continued to take slow, ragged breathes. Fenris seemed startled at this gesture, but did not remove himself. He felt his muscles stiffen at the touch, but it seemed to be helping somewhat. Between the elf and the cat, Anders seemed to be relaxing a little.

Katy finished her work after another ten minutes of silence, and handed the vial to Fenris, rubbing her face.

“It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I’ve only ever made poultices before this,” she said, smiling. Fenris nodded his thanks and took the vial, letting Anders drink from it. The mage tried to tip the vial back to drain the entire potion, but Fenris kept a good grip on it, pulling away after Anders had gotten a small mouthful.

“You don’t need that much, Nalls. I’m not letting you sleep through the entire voyage, it was hard enough to wake you to eat and piss the first few days because of how much you’d taken,” Fenris told him, and extricated his hand from Anders’ grip. He put the stopper into the vial and slid it into a pouch on his belt.

“Thank you Katy,” Anders managed after a moment, his eyes already starting to droop. He leaned against Fenris, absently tucking his head into the crook of the elf’s neck, which made Fenris blush darkly. Katy raised her eyebrows at them before her smile turned into a knowing grin. Fenris opened his mouth to contradict that look on her face, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“Just call me if you need me again. I should get back to my room.”

“I’ll take you!” Connor said, jumping to his feet. Katy seemed to be alright with this, and let Connor escort her out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Fenris sighed in annoyance and pursed his lips, glaring at the door.

“Mage, you are going to be the death of me,” Fenris growled, and tried to extricate himself from the position that Anders had put them in.

“I don’t want you to die,” Anders mumbled, his brow furrowing even as his eyes were closed. It made Fenris pause, uncertain how to respond to that.

“Just... go to sleep.” He shifted a little and managed to lay Anders down onto his side. He pulled his hand from the mage’s grip and moved Pounce so he could put Anders’ legs on the bed as well. Finally, a blanket was tossed over the mage and he turned the lamp down.

He climbed into his hammock and sighed, closing his eyes. Behind his eyelids he saw blond hair cascading over his shoulder. He opened them again.

“ _Merda_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merda = Shit


	5. Cumberland

Connor appeared to be very upset with this. The ship had finally docked in Cumberland, the crew taking the opportunity to restock their supplies and wander the city.

Anders however, would not allow the teenager to follow Katy to wherever it was the crew was going to stay. They had to get going right away. The faster they got to Weisshaupt, the faster they could go home.

“But... She... Um... Might need... um.... something!” Connor said, trying very hard to come up with some sort of excuse. Anders smiled gently at him.

“If you’d really like, Connor, we can just send you back to Amaranthine on another ship. I’m sure your mother would be delighted to know you’re not kidnapped by pirates,” the mage said, his voice a little too sweet. Connor’s eyes widened and he swallowed.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, I would. In a heartbeat. Now get your skinny ass moving. We have to find this caravan that’s supposed to take us to Vol Dorma.”

“Is it a Warden caravan?” Fenris asked, glancing around at the city they now found themselves in. It seemed crowded. And quiet. There were a lot of soldiers in the streets as well.

“No, it’s supposed to just be a regular caravan that travels to Vol Dorma with supplies for Weisshaupt. Then a Warden group will pick up their supplies from Vol Dorma and travel to Weisshaupt,” Anders said, looking around. As they came around the corner, hoping to see the inn that Nathaniel had told them to ask for the caravan leader at, they were greeted with an unwelcome sight.

“Templars!” Connor yelped. Fenris grabbed both Anders and Connor by the arms and pulled them into a side street as quickly as possible.

“That is not the way to remain unnoticed, Connor,” the elf growled at the teenager, who swallowed. The boy’s blue eyes were wide and round, his fear practically tangible. Anders seemed somewhat more calm, though the elf could tell from the tightness in the blond man’s jaw that he was holding back something. Probably Justice.

“Stay here, let me take a look,” Fenris replied, looking between the two mages. “Don’t. Move.”

Fenris shuffled to the corner and peered around it. There were two templars outside the tavern, apparently keeping people from entering the establishment. Behind him, he heard movement and turned to see Anders and Connor standing there. The elf pursed his lips but didn’t say anything, looking at the tavern again.

“This is ridiculous! You cannot treat me like this! I have a letter of identity from the First Warden himself!”

Fenris frowned at the voice of the woman who was being pulled from the tavern by the templars. A flash of red hair, the point of an ear - he was already coming around the corner before his mind finished catching up with his feet.

Varania.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm evil. I know.


	6. Varania

“What are you doing?” Fenris’ voice was soft, but very clear as it cut through the subdued silence outside of the tavern. He crossed his arms and tilted his head at the templar that turned to look at him, he could see the man’s eyes through his visor, taking in the Warden armour, the large sword on his back. The templar’s eyes flicked to a spot behind him and then back again.

“We are taking this apostate in, do not interfere, Warden,” the templar replied.

“I believe I heard her say she has a letter of identity from the First Warden,” Anders said, and Fenris glanced to the side, seeing the mage stop next to him. His Commander crest was suspiciously shiny and bright. The templar couldn’t possibly have missed it.

“She is an apostate, the Order dictates...” the templar began, but he didn’t sound very sure of himself anymore. He looked over his shoulder at the other three templars, two of whom were still holding Varania. She had her back to them, but Fenris could see the stiffness; she had heard his voice, and she had definitely recognised it.

“The Order has enough problems right now, from what I hear, without trying to annoy Grey Wardens,” Anders replied, crossing his own arms.

“Let her go,” the fourth templar said. “Let the Wardens worry about her.”

The other two released Varania’s arms and stepped away. Fenris watched the four templars group together and slowly trail off. It was likely they would try again if she was found alone at some point, maybe even if she wasn’t.

Varania stayed where she was with her back to them, he could see the tension in her shoulders and her hands balling into fists and relaxing again as she seemed to contemplate what to do. Connor, who had come up behind the two older men peered around them at her.

“Um.... So.... Is this where we’re supposed to meet the caravan leader?” he asked, trying to prompt a conversation.

“Yes,” Anders said, glancing from the red-haired elf to her brother and back.

“Is... uh... she our contact?” Connor asked, nodding his head at the woman. Fenris continued to stare at the back of her head, his stomach churning a little now that the templars were gone. He wasn’t sure how he felt. He had let her go, on Hawke and Varric’s suggestion. It had been almost two years ago now. Did he still hate her? Had he ever really hated her?

She seemed to come to some sort of decision and took a deep breath, turning around to face the three of them. He could see her finely schooled features already cracking when she got a good look at him, as her eyes trailed down his body and back up again, taking in the sight of the leather Warden armour. Her gaze darted to Anders, though she didn’t know him. He hadn’t been at the inn when Danarius was killed. She took in the Commander crest on Anders’ chest before glancing at Connor briefly.

“I am here to meet the Hero of Ferelden and to escort her to Weisshaupt,” she said, tilting her chin up a little and looking at her brother with a hint of defiance.

“You don’t have the Hero of Ferelden,” Anders told her, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips. “You have us.”

Her brow furrowed slightly and she glanced at Fenris again, who had turned his attention elsewhere. He didn’t want to look at her, afraid of what he might see, or perhaps even what she might see.

“I was told...”

“We received a missive asking for the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. At the moment, that is me. Maker knows why,” Anders informed her with a sigh. “The Hero disappeared about four or five months ago. We thought she’d been called to Weisshaupt, but then we received the missive and realised that she most definitely wasn’t where we thought she was.”

Varania swore.

Which made Anders snicker softly because she swore exactly the same way Fenris did. Even down to the pacing and hand gestures.

“Well...” She stopped, frustrated and unsure of herself now. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Her question was directed at her brother, although he was studying the scuff marks on his boots with intense interest at that particular moment. Anders elbowed him in the side gently and he looked up. Fenris could feel his mouth go dry as he looked at her again.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he finally retorted, setting his jaw and straightening his back a little, mirroring her own defiant posture.

“I...” She hesitated, biting her lower lip and looking at Anders and Connor.

“Fenris, do you want to introduce the lovely lady, or am I going to have to start guessing?” Anders said finally. The elf made a huffing noise and glared at the mage.

“This is Varania,” he said gesturing at her. “Varania this is... Nalls,” he pointed to Connor, “and Connor.”

“Nice to meet you, Varania,” Anders said, giving her a charming smile, which seemed to relax her a little bit, but just put Fenris on edge.

“She’s my _sister_ ,” he growled.

“Yes, I guessed as much. You two are fairly similar, and Varric told me all about her,” Anders replied. “I was under the impression she had fled back to Tevinter?”

“So was I,” Fenris said through grit teeth.

“I did. Or rather, I started to. I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” she spat, directing most of her venom at Fenris. “I made it to Ansburg before the templars picked me up.”

“Why didn’t they _keep_ you then?”

“There was a Warden at the Circle there, doing some conscription,” she continued, trying to ignore the scowl he was giving her. “As soon as she heard I was from Tevinter, she conscripted me. The templars force me to do one of their Harrowings before I could leave though.” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself tightly.

“You’re not a Warden though,” Anders said, frowning at her. It took Fenris a moment, but he realised that he couldn’t sense her, not the way he could sense Anders, or the Wardens from _The Griffin_.

“No, she didn’t make me do the Joining. Sent me to Weisshaupt instead, ‘for safety’.” Varania frowned slightly. “My knack for languages got me sent down here to meet with you. They said I would probably take part in the Joining when I came back, but I needed more training in magic first.”

“Well Fenris here caught Blight-sickness in Ferelden during an attack by the templars and had to go through the Joining so he didn’t die! Isn’t that exciting?” Fenris resisted the urge to hit the mage, but only just barely.

“Can we go inside and eat and figure this out later?” Connor’s tone hit something just short of whining.

“No,” all three adults said at the same time.

“We should leave now,” Anders suggested, looking at Varania.

“Yes, the caravans are all being searched and the templars are guarding most of the city exits,” she said. “The caravan we’re supposed to travel with won’t be allowed out of the city for another week, but there is another one that left two days ago, also going to Vol Dorma. If we leave now, we might catch up to them in a day or two. They’ll be moving slowly because of the wagons.”

“We’ll need supplies,” Fenris pointed out, uncrossing his arms.

“I have some already,” Varania said, gesturing to the tavern. “They’re in there.”

“Let’s get them and go then.” Anders gestured for Varania to go ahead and get what she needed, they needed to get out of Cumberland before the templars started to get really annoyed, or came back with more men. He really didn’t want to start fighting with templars in Cumberland right now, he already had them hating him in Kirkwall and Ferelden.

Varania was quick, in and out of the tavern with a few satchels full of food and bed rolls. She explained she’d gotten them from the caravan they were supposed to travel with since they were not going to be able to leave with them. Luckily, the Warden armour, and Anders’ Commander crest specifically got them out of the city with little harrassment.

As they got further outside of the walls, Fenris noted that the guards seemed much more interested in people trying to get _into_ the city than out of it. Refugees seemed to be trickling in, mostly from the Free Marches, from the accents he heard as they passed.

He watched as Connor strolled next to Varania, trying to draw her into conversation. When Anders glanced over a shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow, the elf just scowled and looked away. He didn’t want to deal with this right now, his stomach was already fluttering, partially at the smile Anders was giving the red-haired elf, and partially because he still wasn’t sure how he felt about her, let alone how he felt about Anders flirting with her.

 _Bah_.


	7. Leto

She was laughing. She looked nice when she laughed, Anders decided. A part of his mind liked to imagine that was how Fenris looked when he relaxed enough to actually laugh. They were somewhat similar, their eyes, their mouths, most of their gestures as well.

“And then Varric said-”

“I am going to get more firewood,” Fenris growled, interrupting Anders and standing up. They already had a nice pile that Connor had gathered, but Fenris had a look that told Anders not to bother to argue. Instead, the mage shook his head and watched Fenris stalk off into the dim light of dusk.

“Won’t it be hard to see the wood in the dark?” Connor asked, looking at Anders and Varania, confused.

“He carries his light with him,” Anders replied, and on cue, a pale blue light seemed to appear in the direction Fenris had stalked off. “Get some sleep Connor, you’re going to be whining a lot tomorrow while we walk.”

“I will not!” The teenager pouted a little, but his eyes were already fluttering, even when Anders had been telling stories. They’d walked since leaving Cumberland and had not stopped until the sun had started to disappear behind the mountains. They had seen many travellers on the road so far, but most of them were moving toward Cumberland rather than away from it. Refugees and the like, wagons filled with valuables and families, not merchants or goods.

Anders smiled as Connor curled up and closed his eyes. The mage added another piece of wood to the fire and looked into the dark, searching for the blue glow of Fenris.

“So what is going on between you and my brother?”

The blond man looked up, eyebrows arching at the question. She was staring at him somewhat intently, green locking onto his brown ones. Anders could feel his face flushing a little, though he couldn’t imagine why, he had no reason to be embarrassed, nothing was going on between Fenris and him.

“You mean other than utter loathing?” Anders finally replied, poking at the fire and looking away.

“You have been talking with me the entire walk from Cumberland. I can hear his teeth grinding five feet away,” she said, smiling ever so slightly. Anders snorted and looked up at her again.

“It was getting somewhat loud, wasn’t it?”

“I know he is still... confused. I don’t blame him. I certainly wasn’t expecting to ever have to see him again after what happened.”

“What did happen?” Anders watched her over the flames. Varania winced and looked away, focusing on her hands.

“I... He was the youngest. We were all slaves to Danarius. He didn’t remember, but I did. We were born on Seheron, taken prisoner and sold as slaves. He and I were young enough at the time that we were able to stay together so she could care for us. Mother worked in the kitchen and I did laundry. He... I don’t know why, but Danarius let him learn to fight. I think he used to sneak into the kitchens, and was always so... acrobatic,” she began with a small smile as she remembered.

“When he was eighteen or nineteen, he was very proficient. I think Danarius was considering making him a gladiator. That may have been his reasoning for letting him learn in the first place...” She frowned slightly as she thought about it. “At any rate... Danarius had been doing tests for years with that lyrium. Small things, but he finally felt confident enough to try it full scale. He sent a call out to the guards in the house, and to the slave traders. He was looking for strong people with high stamina that could handle it. The person who went through with the ritual would receive a boon. We’d been raised on stories of Seheron, and I remembered bits and pieces of it, so I suppose he was always a little more... wild than most slaves. He volunteered. Mother didn’t want him to do it, she was convinced it would kill him, but he did it anyway. He wanted to get the boon to release us both.”

Anders’ brow furrowed slightly and he glanced past the firelight, he could see Fenris’ glow still dimly in the dark, but the elf hadn’t moved for a bit. He seemed to be sitting and doing something.

“Danarius made it a contest then, so many volunteered. Made his own little gladiator battle. Leto won in the end, and asked that mother and I be freed. I only saw him once, after the ritual, before we left for Magister Ahriman’s service as servants instead of slaves.”

“Then he was Fenris?” Anders said softly. He pretended not to see her wiping at her eyes, or hear the sniffles.

“He wasn’t my little brother anymore,” she agreed with a nod. “When he escaped... Danarius came to me. Told me if Leto tried to contact me to tell him, that I’d be rewarded. Mother had died, and I was stuck, a mage doing seamstress work for a Magister, only barely more than a slave. As a slave, I was fed and clothed. I had a roof over my head. As a servant I had to pay taxes, I had to pay for my own clothing and food. I had to find somewhere to live near the Magister’s estate, all on the tiny wage I was given monthly. It was horrible. So when I received the letter... I went to Danarius. He promised to make me his apprentice since Hadriana was gone. I didn’t know Leto had killed her until later...”

She sniffed again and rubbed her eyes. “He told me he wasn’t going to kill Leto. He was just going to bring him back to Tevinter. I thought... I thought if I was his apprentice, I could help Leto. He’d be safer. I don’t know. I guess that’s what I told myself to make it better somehow.”

“He’s had a lot of anger he’s been working through,” Anders replied, smiling at her slightly. “Take heart from the fact that he didn’t kill you outright. I’m sure he’s wanted to kill me a few times. Right Fenfen?”

The elf was stalking back into camp at Anders’ last word and scowled at the mage. He glanced at his sister and back at Anders again before making an annoyed _pfaugh_ noise. Fenris flopped down away from them, curling up with his own bedroll, back to the fire.

“I thought you were gathering firewood?”

“Shut up, mage,” Fenris retorted over his shoulder, which made Anders grin a little and wink at Varania.

“Get some sleep Varania, I’ll keep watch,” Anders said, nodding at her own bedroll. Varania smiled and laid down, curling up with her blanket and closing her eyes.


	8. Dreams

The song. It was so loud, he couldn’t fathom why Anders didn’t hear it. It pulled him in every direction at once, wanting him to go here then there, then back again. Fenris didn’t care where it led, he just followed it.

He didn’t know how long he’d been walking. It felt like only minutes, but it had to have been hours. Or was it? He couldn’t really tell.

Fenris climbed over boulders and debris, carefully picking his way through the mouth of the cave. He winced as he banged his head against a stalactite. The further he went, the darker it became, until he couldn’t see anymore, but he didn’t use his markings. He just... knew where he was going.

The song was louder. It echoed off of the walls. The scratching was louder too. The scritch-scratch of genlocks, the scratch-scratch of hurlocks, the screech-scratch of shrieks. He could hear them all, hundreds of them all around him.

He could feel his breath shortening as they got closer. The scratching in his mind getting louder and louder as he moved through the tunnels, trying to find the song. It was getting softer again. The scratching was drowning it out as they came, crawling through the darkness to find him. He reached back for his sword, but it wasn’t there. Had he left it behind? Did he lose it somewhere? He couldn’t remember anything before the song.

The scratches were so loud now, like rats in the walls. So close. He could hear their armour clanking, the chainmail tinkling, blades rasping from their sheathes. Growls and gnashing. He could hear it, getting closer and closer, drowning out the song.

“No...”

He wanted to hear the song. They were too close, too loud, they were blocking it out.

“No!”

He lit his markings then, flaring the light through the dark cave, revealing sparkling veins of lyrium in the stone walls and darkspawn just on the edge of the light.

 _Fenris!_

He started to run through the tunnels then, but the darkspawn always stayed just beyond the light of his markings, never close enough for him to see or kill.

 _Fenris!!_

He gasped and sat up, eyes wild. Anders’ hands were on his shoulders, then his back, pulling him forward.

“Breathe, Fenris,” Anders said, holding the elf close to his chest, petting his hair soothingly. Fenris coughed and took a deep breath. His lungs were burning, as if he’d been running. It had been a dream, just another dream. They were always so _vivid_. He could still hear the song and the scratching. Not as clearly as he had in his dream, but they were there.

“Is he okay?” he heard someone, a woman ask. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He was fine, it had been a dream. Just a dream. He was with Anders and Connor and Varania and they were camped near the road in Nevarra, and there was an orange tabby cat rubbing against his arm. When he opened his eyes again he felt calmer, the mage’s fingers in his hair was very soothing.

“Fenris?” Anders leaned a little so he could look into the elf’s eyes. Fenris caught his gaze and held it a moment before Anders nodded and gently released him. He felt a lot calmer since Anders did not seem to be particularly worried by his nightmare. He had been warned they would come, and he remembered a few vague night terrors while they’d been in the Keep, but nothing like that.

Fenris untangled himself from his bedroll, avoiding the gaze of his sister and Connor.

“It’s almost dawn,” Anders said, standing up and brushing himself off. “If we leave now, we might catch up with the caravan before nightfall.”

Varania nodded and stood, already gathering her things and packing them away. She pulled out some bread and cheese, offering them to Anders.

“Thanks,” the mage said, breaking the bread into four pieces, handing a chunk to each person, and then dividing the cheese as well. They could eat while they walked.

Anders scooped Pounce up and put the cat carefully into his pack, which didn’t seem to bother the tabby that much. He curled up in the satchel, his fluffy head poking out to watch what was going on.

Fenris collected his things and slid his sword onto his back before looking around and waiting for everyone else to get their things together. He frowned while he watched them, turning his gaze to the dark countryside and letting his markings flare to brighten it a little, supplementing the pre-dawn light. Scratching. He could hear it.

It made him twitch and rub his ears. It was still the nightmare, his mind hadn’t let go of the sound yet, that had to be it.

“Let’s go,” Anders finally said, gesturing for Varania to lead the way. Fenris fell in at the back, as usual - he preferred to be able to see if anything was coming up behind them from Cumberland. “Fenris, stop glowing. We’ll use a magelight if we need it. I don’t want you attracting any lyrium-hungry templars by accident.”

The elf scowled at Anders, but did as he was told. The scratching noise softened somewhat when his markings dimmed, but he could still hear it, like an annoying insect buzzing around one’s head.

After an hour of it, his head was starting to hurt, and it was getting louder. Though at one point, the road had curved and it had gotten soft again, but then it curved back and he could hear it again, loud and clear. Just a bit more to the right, if he followed the foot path he could-

“Fenris!”

He stopped short, blinking and turning to the voice, confused, and a little disoriented. When had he walked off the road? How had he gotten so far into the field? Anders was running up to him, frowning.

“Are you okay? I called to you three times,” Anders said as he slowed to a walk, stopping next to the elf and looking worried.

“You did? I... didn’t hear you.”

“Obviously. Are you okay? Where were you going?”

“I... don’t know, I didn’t even realise I’d left the road...” he said, rubbing his temple and closing his eyes. “The scratching is just so loud...”

“What scratching?” Anders asked, his voice sharp and his brow furrowing.

“You... don’t hear it?” Fenris didn’t like that. He’d feel much better if Anders could hear it too. He thought it was darkspawn, but Anders had been a Warden much longer than he had, so if Anders couldn’t hear it, then maybe he was finally losing his mind.

Anders frowned and closed his eyes, as if he were listening for something, before shaking his head and opening his eyes again, his expression betraying his worry.

“It sounds like scratching?”

Fenris nodded, looking at the ground and feeling like an idiot.

“I can’t hear it, I’m sorry Fenris... Maybe... Let’s get going. You started to just walk off the road, like you were under a spell almost. When we catch up with the caravan, I’ll take a more thorough look at you. Make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”

All he could do was nod again, and followed Anders back to the road.


	9. The Song

Anders rubbed his hands together over the fire and glanced around. They had caught up with the caravan the previous evening, just after nightfall. The caravan leader had been glad to see them, their escort was a paltry - no one wanted to leave the safety of the cities, so cheap guards were not to be found. Having Wardens with them seemed to make the caravan leader a lot more relaxed and he had treated them to a good, if late, dinner when they had proven they were friends.

There were three wagons total and only three guards. Anders did not feel confident letting Connor or Varania get into anything that required battle. Connor was better trained than Varania when it came to magic - his time at the Circle having been good for something, but his experience with battle had been from the top of a wall, raining fireballs down on templars, not hand-to-hand, face-to-face combat with bandits and other sundry creatures. Varania’s knowledge of how to use her magic was very basic; she was much better at control, which would make it easier for her to learn new things quickly, but did not help them while they were on dangerous roads with little protection.

Fenris... he had not slept well the first night in the caravan. The nightmares kept coming, and he had eventually given up and taken over for the guard on duty. The following day had been difficult for him as well - he wouldn’t let Anders take a look at him, and he kept wandering from the road and the group. Anders or Connor would always steer him back again if they saw him stray, but it was getting very worrying.

The mage moved away from the fire, checking Connor and then Varania. He nodded to the guard on duty and noted the other guard was already sleeping, in preparation for his own turn later that evening. He smiled at the caravan leader, a stout man with a big belly and an even bigger laugh, who was talking with another of the waggoners and the third guard.

It was behind the supply wagon that he finally found the elf, curled up against one of the wheels, his sword across his knees.

“Fenris?”

Fenris started, his hand going for the grip of his sword. He relaxed slightly and let go of the hilt when Anders settled next to him, a worried look on the mage’s face.

“How are you feeling?” Anders could tell the elf was feeling far from well, the shadows already building under his eyes, and he’d barely eaten the past two evenings - which was a feat for a new warden, especially one with Fenris’ enormous appetite; but he wanted to hear it from Fenris.

“Fine.”

Anders shifted so he could face the white-haired elf, his lips pursing into a frown.

“You wouldn’t let me look at you last night. I need to know what’s wrong, Fenris. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“The same thing that is wrong with you,” Fenris replied, his jaw clenching slightly. He kept his eyes forward, staring into the deepening dusk at some unknown point.

“I have nightmares Fenris, but not more than one or two in an evening. You woke up five times last night before you gave up trying to sleep, not including the one you had the night before. Your nightmares weren’t that bad on the ship. Were they like that in Ferelden?”

Fenris shifted a little, his eyes flicking from the distant point to Anders and then back again.

“No, they were not like this in Ferelden.”

“You’ve been wandering off from the group too, like you’re in a trance or something,” Anders continued, his brow furrowing a little. “You kept mumbling about a song and scratching.”

He saw Fenris’ ear twitched slightly when he mentioned the song, but the elf didn’t move from his spot or look at Anders again.

“Fenris, you need to tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say, mage? That I am hearing things? That I’m exhausted and on edge? You knew that already,” Fenris snapped. He pushed himself off of the ground, using his sword for leverage before sliding it into the sheath at his back.

“Fenris-”

“Leave me be for now, _Commander_. I need... space.”

Anders winced as he watched the elf walk off into the darkening landscape. _Commander_. He knew Fenris wouldn’t normally stray too far from the caravan, but if he was hearing things and something was trying to... control him, then he needed to stay closer.

Trying to tell that to Fenris though might not go well for his health. At least not while he was this irritable. Anders stood up and stretched a little, a few popping noises reminding him he wasn’t getting any younger before he trailed after the elf in the dark.

He climbed over some of the rocks that dotted the terrain of Nevarra, trying to keep up with Fenris. Anders finally slid down the side of a fairly large rock - one that blocked his view of the caravan and the road - and found Fenris standing there, at the mouth of a crevice.

“Fenris.”

The white-haired elf blinked and looked up at Anders, somewhat surprised to see him, before frowning and looking at the cave again.

“Fenris, we should go back to camp. It’s not safe for us to be here by ourselves.”

Fenris knelt down by the cave-entrance, peering inside and frowning.

“It’s louder here.”

Anders frowned again and moved closer, looking in. He didn’t hear anything, and this was really worrying him. The mage glanced back at Fenris, seeing that he was very intently focused on the cave and sighed, casting a small mage light to see better and moving a small way into the cave, looking around and listening carefully.

There was nothing. The distant sounds of rocks falling, water dripping from the ceiling into a puddle somewhere ahead, and the hum of lyrium. Nothing else.

He started to turn back toward Fenris; who had lingered at the entrance, not seeming able to bring himself to come into the cave itself; and suddenly stopped. His eyes widened slightly and he turned back again, searching the cave walls for the telltale blue. Anders pushed further into the cave, climbing over large rocks and out-croppings to find that this particular cave was not attached to the Deep Roads. When he touched the back of the cave he pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing in the dim mage light as he scanned the walls and the ceiling for lyrium.

There.

“Fenris! Come in here please,” he called toward the cave entrance, not taking his eyes away from the pale blue crack in the ceiling. The clatter of rocks and a soft Arcanum swearword told him that Fenris had obeyed. He looked over to watch the glowing elf’s approach, seeing the normally graceful man stumble and sway, one hand against his temple, the other reached out to brace himself against any wall or rock he could. The pain was more evident the closer he got.

Anders moved forward to meet him, not wanting to force him further into the cave if it was hurting him as much as it seemed. He caught the elf just as he tripped over a small rock and helped him to sit down. Anders worriedly looked Fenris over to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself on the way through, considering the way he’d been weaving. When Fenris was settled, both hands gripped his head and his eyes closed tightly.

“Talk to me. Tell me what you hear,” Anders said gently, his hands glowing gently around the elf’s head, hoping to relieve some of the pain.

“Everything,” Fenris gasped, his breathing coming faster as he tried to focus. Anders’ jaw tightened, but he kept his magic flowing into the elf. He noticed Fenris’ markings were starting to pulse. Anders looked upward and saw that the lyrium line on the ceiling was mimicking the pattern.

“Put your markings out. Stop glowing,” Anders told him sharply. He could see Fenris relax a little when he let go of the lyrium in his skin, the pain obviously lessening a bit. “Now, what do you hear?”

“A song. Scratching. Skittering. Crawling. Growling,” Fenris recited, his eyes still closed.

“Is it louder here than it was at the mouth of the cave?”

“Yes.”

“Is it louder with your markings lit?”

“Yes.”

“What... what does the song sound like? Can you describe it?”

“No... I can’t. It’s...” In the mage light, his eyes looked more blue as he opened them, gazing intently at Anders. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well it’s either an Archdemon, or it’s the lyrium. My vote is the lyrium,” Anders replied, pushing himself to his feet and offering his hand to Fenris.

“Lyrium?”

Anders pointed up to the pale blue crack in the ceiling. “It’s raw lyrium up there. Maybe the Taint has made your tattoos more sensitive. I didn’t realise that was the song you were talking about at the time. You’ve never been able to hear it before.”

“You can hear it?” Fenris’ eyes widened and he looked up at the crack and back to Anders, who shrugged as they carefully poked their way back to the mouth of the cave. It was completely dark outside now, and very cold.

Anders didn’t answer him until they were under the sky again and he could breathe. He hated caves and tunnels and small spaces. He’d gotten better with them over the years, and when he was focused on something else it helped a little, but he still felt like it was difficult to breathe sometimes.

“Yes. All mages are sensitive to lyrium. Raw lyrium is louder than, say, the lyrium in a potion. Though I’m more sensitive than most, thanks to my passenger,” Anders told him with a smile. The mage light floated over both their heads like a happy wisp, and he took a moment to look around.

“What about-”

“I’ve always been able to hear you Fenris. You’re not very sneaky. You’d have to ask Connor or Varania if they can hear you too. I’m not sure if it’s just me. C’mon, do you remember which way camp was?”

The elf gestured back the way they’d come originally, taking the lead, seemingly more focused now as they moved further away from the cave.

When they finally reached the edge of camp again, Anders was glad to find that it hadn’t been carried off by bandits or exploded or anyone eaten by dragons while they were gone. He glanced at Fenris, who was suddenly interested in his feet when Anders looked at him. The mage rolled his eyes.

“Will you be alright? Will you be able to sleep?”

“Probably not,” Fenris replied, still looking at his toes. “But... Now that I know what the... song is, I feel a little better.”

“Well that’s something at least. Will you try to eat then? I don’t want you fainting from lack of food and rest tomorrow. It will be two weeks before we get to Vol Dorma.”

Fenris nodded, though his eyes were still on his feet. Anders knew that was the most he was going to get and turned away with a sigh.

“Goodnight, Fenris.”


	10. Captain Erik

The sounds of armoured horses was not Anders’ ideal way of waking. The caravan leader was speaking in low tones nearby and Anders sat up, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hair from his face to see what had happened.

There was a group of men that looked to be a mixture of soldiers and templars, standing with the caravan leader. He looked around quickly, noting that Varania and Connor were both still asleep. Fenris was awake, sharpening his sword openly next to the coals and seated where he could see the entire group of men. Anders pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail and stood up slowly. He was hoping not to draw much attention to himself as he moved around what was left of the fire.

“Commander!” Anders winced at the word. The caravan leader had noticed him move and was moving toward him, waving his hand and looking a little frantic. Anders straightened and brushed some dust from his shirt. He forced a neutral expression and turned to the shorter man.

“You are a Warden Commander?” One of the templars had followed the caravan leader over. He sounded dubious as his helmet tilted up and down Anders’ frame; obviously looking the mage over.

“I’m sorry, with whom am I speaking?” Anders asked, raising his eyebrows. The templar crossed his arms over his broad chest defiantly.

“Knight-Captain Erik,” was the reply. Behind him, Anders could hear Fenris standing and sheathing his sword.

“Do you and your men make a habit, Knight Captain, of introducing yourselves and speaking to travellers with your helmets on?” Anders asked, his tone just edging on sickly-sweet. He knew he shouldn’t antagonize the templar. He was a wanted man, and he was not far from the Free Marches. There was only him and Fenris to fight them, and they numbered six, four of them wearing templar armour. Antagonizing was bad.

The silence stretched out for a while, and Anders’ eyes flickered to the men behind the templar, hands on their swords and daggers. Finally, however, the templar removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm. He was an older man by the look of his salt-coloured hair; with a three-day beard, and a large scar down one side of his face.

“I apologise for my rudeness, Ser Warden,” Erik said finally. “We have been travelling for some time, and hoped the caravan leader here had extra supplies or perhaps had coin to spare for help protecting his wares on his way to the Imperial border.”

“Since when do templars beg from caravans?” Fenris’ voice was rough as he moved closer, his arm brushing against Anders’ when he stopped.

“Since the Circle in Kirkwall fell to flames and madness,” Erik replied somberly. “We come from Tantervale. The Chantry there is in ruins, the templars having turned on each other. Some wanted to help the mages, and others wanted to hunt them. The city was bathed in blood.” The templar looked away and shuddered slightly.

“What do you think?” Anders asked, his voice soft. Erik looked back at him and pursed his lips before straightening.

“I was a Captain at the Circle of Starkhaven before it burnt to the ground. I was transferred to Tantervale afterward. I heard what happened in Kirkwall, and I know some of what happened to the Starkhaven mages that were sent there. It was madness, and these men agree with me,” Erik said. His posture was challenging, as if daring Anders to disagree with him.

Anders softened however, not holding himself quite so stiffly. “Captain, have your men come to the fire. I’m sure we can find some breakfast for them,” he said and glanced at the caravan leader who nodded nervously and scampered off to his wagoneers. “I’m Commander Raghnall, from Ferelden.”

“It’s a pleasure, Commander,” Erik said, also relaxing visibly and gesturing to his men to come closer. Anders turned back to the fire, glancing at Fenris before he nudged Varania and Connor awake gently. “You’re a long way from Ferelden, if I may say so.”

Anders prodded the fire a little, coaxing it to life again before settling down. Fenris sat down as well, putting himself firmly between the templars and Anders.

“Well, when the First Warden calls, one must answer,” Anders said with a wry smile. “We’re on our way to Weisshaupt.”

He watched as the other templars settled down on the ground near the fire, their own helmets and gauntlets coming off a little at a time. He noticed some stiffness and a few winces from some of the men as they moved and frowned. Varania and Connor had both been moving as subtly as they could toward Anders and Fenris, putting distance between themselves and the templars.

“So where are you headed?” Anders asked Erik as the caravan leader brought over a large slab of bacon and bread. He also offered a wineskin to the templar before going over to Varania with the bacon. She generally made their breakfast, mainly because Anders burnt everything (on purpose because he hated cooking, but they didn’t need to know that), Fenris couldn’t cook anything more complex than water, and Connor usually ended up setting something on fire by accident. The waggoners had all eaten already at daybreak, and were packing up the tents and camp while the wardens and the templars started their breakfasts.

“We were hoping to get to Nevarra City, even with Orlais to the west, Nevarra is already more calm than the Free Marches,” Erik said, tearing into the bread in his hand.

“Are your men all right?” Anders asked, glancing at one who winced visibly when he moved his arm to eat. Erik followed Anders’ gaze and frowned a little before swallowing.

“There have been some... battles along the way. We followed the river west. They wouldn’t even let us in the gates at Hasmal - claiming some plague of sorts... We’ve done the best we can.”

Anders looked at the templar across the fire again, his fingers twitching with the need to take a closer look.

“We must be very near the river if you followed it into Nevarra,” Fenris remarked, pulling Anders’ attention away from the wounded templar across the fire for a moment. The elf was stiff and his lips were pursed.

“Probably less than a day away. We hoped to follow the road down and find supplies or coin to charter a boat the rest of the way down the river. Our horses are as exhausted as we are,” Erik said with a stiff smile. “I doubt anyone would pay for them in the condition they are in, but we hoped...”

“I’m sure the caravan leader wouldn’t mind if you wanted to escort us back up to the river, guards were a rare commodity in Cumberland, and we’ve seen a few groups of bandits wandering the hillsides. Luckily they’ve been ignoring us, but we can’t count on that all the way to Tevinter,” Anders said absently and stood up. He was about to move around to the wounded templar when he felt someone grab his arm.

“ _Nalls_ , I think we need to discuss this with the caravan leader before offering up his hospitality.” Anders turned to look at Fenris, who had been speaking through clenched teeth. “Please excuse us a moment.” The elf pulled Anders away from the fire and toward the wagons where they could have some privacy, but still see Varania and Connor.

“Why are you dragging me-”

“What the blazes are you doing?” Fenris demanded, glancing back at the templars and then to Anders again. “Are you mad? Is that spirit in your head sleeping?” Anders blinked at him and frowned.

“No... He... we’re not really all that separate Fenris. I don’t really... He doesn’t disagree with me.” Anders shrugged. “They are not templars like Meredith or Alrik or Gerald.”

“How do you know?” Fenris almost snarled, his markings flaring briefly. Anders heard the sound of armour clanking near the fire and glanced over to see some of the templars had turned in their direction, but seemed to be making no move away from the fire and the food.

“I don’t know, I just... have a feeling, ok?”

“A _feeling_? You will risk our freedom on a _feeling_?” the elf snapped, his voice raising a little, drawing slightly more attention from the fire.

“We are Grey Wardens, Fenris, they can’t do anything to us without pissing off Weisshaupt and not even Meredith was willing to risk that,” Anders replied. “Relax. I’ve got everything under control.”

Anders smiled and pat the elf’s shoulder gently before turning back to the fire.

_Dear Maker,_

_Please let me be right, because I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so’ for the next million years from him if I’m wrong._

_~Anders_


	11. The Border

“No! This is ridiculous! Have you forgotten who we are travelling with and where we are going?” Fenris demanded of the mage, his finger pressed against Anders’ chest as he looked up. It annoyed him that Anders was a head taller than him sometimes, and this was one of those times.

“Of course I am aware, you have already argued with me about this. I am not a complete idiot, Fenris.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Stop mumbling obscenities under your breath and finish setting up camp. I need to go talk to the border guards and I need you to stay here with them and keep them out of trouble and also to keep the refugees from robbing us blind.”

“We should have gone to Nevarra City with the caravan.”

“We have to be in Weisshaupt in a timely fashion, going to Nevarra would have been a pointless detour.”

“We could have bought more supplies.”

“We can do that in Tevinter.”

“If they let us past the border.”

“If they don’t we’ll find another way.”

“The only other way is to strike out west to Orlais and then up into the Anderfels and that involves a lot of hiking and very few roads.”

“I know that, now if you’ll let me go,” Anders pushed past the elf, moving out of the firelight and into the darkness of the other camps. The Nevarran side of the border was choked with refugees trying to get to Tevinter. Some wanted to travel through to family in the Anderfels, while others seemed to want to live in the Imperium - trying to avoid the fighting between the templars and mages.

At least that was what they’d been told by the neighbouring campsite, which had a small family of three trying to get to the Anderfels. They had been very forthcoming with information when they’d seen Anders’ and Fenris’ Warden armour.

“I can go with him if it will alleviate your worries.”

Fenris spun around, glaring at the templar. “I do not trust you, templar, and you will only make things worse. Tevinter is not known for its welcoming attitude toward warriors of Orlais.” He stood his ground, watching the templar finally shrug and turn back to the camp where Connor was laying out bedrolls and Varania was making a fire.

He frowned as Ser Erik settled himself affably next to Varania, offering to assist her. Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before moving closer to the campfire. He began to pace, his attention divided between the suspect templar that had followed them when the caravan had turned to Nevarra City three days earlier, and the darkness that had enveloped the idiot mage who had wandered off to try and bribe the border guards. It was ridiculous. 

Four hours later, Connor and Varania were asleep, the knight was sitting by the fire, and the mage had still not returned. Fenris had already made a small dirt path from all of his pacing. He was torn, not wanting to leave Varania and Connor alone with the suspect knight, and wanting to make sure Anders hadn’t gotten himself captured or killed or something.

“Why don’t you go look for him? I can keep watch,” Erik finally said, sighing and looking up at the elf. Fenris scowled at him and stopped pacing for a moment.

“Because I don’t _trust_ you, knight.”

“Then I’ll go look for him and you can stay here with them.”

“No.”

Erik pursed his lips and stood up. “Then we can go look for him together.”

“I’m not leaving them here alone,” Fenris replied, and turned back to his pacing. If Anders wasn’t dead, he was going to kill him when he got back.

“Look, you don’t trust me, fine, but what am I going to do to them while you’re gone? They’re sleeping. It isn’t in my favour to hurt them or steal from you, especially if I want to cross the border.”

Fenris hated to admit it, but the knight had a point. Which just annoyed him more. Luckily, he was spared from having to reply as the sound of someone approaching the camp caught his ear. He turned quickly and saw two men, one supporting the other, walking slowly toward them.

“Ho Camp!” one called. “May we approach?”

“Come into the light,” Fenris replied, squinting into the dim light as they slowly came forward. As they came closer, the firelight reflected off of blue and silver armour topped with burnished gold hair and Fenris rushed forward. 

“An-Nalls!” he glanced at the templar quickly and helped the other man, who was wearing peasant clothing, settle Anders on a bedroll near the fire.

“He’s alright Serah,” the other man said, straightening when Anders was situated. “He was helping near the border guard post. There’s a lot of sick and hurt people there, trying to get through for medical aid. He just dove right in, fixing arms and handing out medicines.”

Fenris knelt next to Anders, checking the mage carefully to make sure he wasn’t missing any body parts or bleeding.

“He wore himself out, I think. Just sat down on the ground after helping a little boy and couldn’t get back up again. I volunteered to help him back. He said his camp was out here and there was an elf with white hair at it. I’m guessing he meant you.”

“Nalls? Nalls, are you okay?” Fenris hesitated, his hands hovering over the mage. 

“Hi Fenris.”

The elf sighed, relieved that Anders had responded finally, though he seemed vague and tired.

“I used all my mana.”

“I can see that.”

“I’m tired.”

“You should lay down.”

“There are still people that need help.”

“You can’t help them like this, Nalls.”

“Okay.”

Fenris glanced up and saw that the knight was handing a small bag of potions to the other man, who was thanking him.

“Lay down, Anders,” Fenris whispered. The mage nodded again before laying down. Fenris pulled a blanket over him, making sure he was covered. “Get some rest, you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“There are a lot of sick people,” Anders said, yawning. “Just wake me up in an hour, so I can go back.” Fenris rolled his eyes slightly, but nodded so that Anders would go to sleep.

“The guards said we can go talk to them tomorrow,” Anders murmured, already beginning to drift off. 

“Okay, now go to sleep.”

“Mkay. Hour.”

When Anders finally fell asleep, Fenris stood, stretching and looking around for the knight and the peasant. The other man was gone, but Ser Erik was by the fire again.

“I gave him some of the potions we had, since the Commander can make more and they obviously needed them,” Erik said as Fenris sat down on the bedroll next to Anders.

“That was... a good thought,” Fenris said. He suddenly felt very tired. “The Commander said that the guards will speak with us in the morning. I’m sure they just want to verify our Warden documents.”

Erik nodded and poked at the dying flames. “I should probably leave my armour behind.”

“That would probably be a sound decision. I doubt you would find Tevinter very welcoming to your Templar attire.”

“Yes, I gathered that.”

“Why are you with us?”

“I’m sorry?” Erik looked up from the fire and Fenris stared at him suspiciously.

“Why are you with us? You said you wanted to get to Weisshaupt when you caught up with us, but why? Why not go with your templar group through Nevarra to Orlais and north from there?”

Erik shifted, and Fenris thought he looked uncomfortable for a moment. “You were obviously going to get there faster, cutting through Tevinter.”

“So? Why do you need to get there? Why go from Starkhaven to Tantervale and then split with your friends to follow us to Weisshaupt?”

“I...” Erik shifted, keeping his eyes down.

“You want us to trust you, and yet you are not honest with us. This is why I do not trust you, this is why I will not leave you alone with anyone.” Fenris tossed a rock into the flames, causing sparks to kick up and forcing Erik to look away for a moment. “What are you hiding, knight?”

Erik glanced at Anders, and then over at Connor and Varania before looking at Fenris again.

“I’m not a templar,” he replied quietly.

“What?”

“I’m not a templar. I’m a spy. I insinuated myself into the group of templars during the confusion in Tantervale. They had all been in the Circle when the fighting began so I convinced them I had been stationed in the Chantry. I’d been following the mage issues in the Free Marches for the past two years.”

Fenris crossed the distance between them in seconds, his markings flaring as he pushed the older man against the ground, holding him there. “Who do you work for?”

Erik coughed and grimaced, his eyes widening at the ghostly sight of Fenris. “F-Ferelden,” he finally managed. “Queen Anora.”

“Can you prove that?”

“Y-yes. My saddle bags...”

Fenris stood up, letting the knight go. “You will show me. _Now_.”

Erik nodded and stood up, rubbing his chest where Fenris had been holding him and moving to the saddle bags he had brought with him - the horse having been left with the caravan. Erik pulled out a few sheets of parchment and handed them to Fenris, who flipped through them quickly. They had Queen Anora’s seal at the bottom of each page.

“What are these?”

“Letters from the Queen to the First Warden. She sent them to me shortly before I fled Tantervale with the templars. She wanted me to get to Weisshaupt to deliver them. As soon as we met you, and your Commander mentioned being from Ferelden... It was a perfect opportunity. I didn’t want to waste it.”

Fenris thrust the sheets back into Erik’s hands. He wasn’t sure whether to be angry or relieved or both.

“You will tell the Commander everything you told me in the morning. He will decide what we will do with you,” Fenris said with finality as he sat back down on his bedroll. The knight seemed to release his breath and nodded. 

“I am sorry for the deception, Ser Warden... I should have told you as soon as we parted ways from the caravan. I knew that your Commander was a mage, but he did not seem perturbed so I didn’t worry about it. I did not realise that you were also one as well, I understand your nervousness at my ‘templar’ status now,” Erik said, putting the sheets away carefully in the bags again before setting himself down on his own bedroll.

“I am _not_ a mage,” Fenris retorted. “Go to sleep. I will keep watch and we will deal with this in the morning. The Commander will decide what you do and do not need to know.”

Erik nodded and laid down, turning his back to Fenris. The elf sighed again before looking over at Anders.

_Dear Maker,_

_This is getting ridiculous._

_Also, I hope the Queen gets sick and throws up for a month straight - my stomach feels terrible now because of her stupid spy._

_No love,_

_Fenris_


	12. Weisshaupt

“Any letters?”

Anders pulled himself into the wagon and tapped the side to let the driver know they were ready to go. “No, but I sent one off to Nathaniel. Told him about the journey between Cumberland and Vol Dorma.”

“Did you leave out the boring bits?” Fenris raised an eyebrow and smirked at the mage, who rolled his eyes.

“No, I told him every gory detail. I hope he’s bored to tears having to read that letter. It would serve him right.”

“Are you still annoyed that you’re here and he’s there?” Connor asked, shifting around to try and make himself more comfortable. The ride to Weisshaupt was supposed to only be a few hours by wagon, but that didn’t make it any more comfortable than the week of walking they’d done across the Silent Plains.

“Of course I am. I hate the Anderfels,” Anders replied. “I also told him to pass along Ser Erik’s regards to the Queen.”

Erik nodded his thanks and smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to know I’m going in the right direction.”

“I’m sure she’ll be glad to know we got across the border and haven’t been kidnapped by slavers or killed by bandits yet,” Fenris said, watching the scenery go by as they moved further north. “And that we had to travel across Tevinter - stopping only twice the entire time to get supplies and rest so we wouldn’t be late getting to Weisshaupt.”

Once they had crossed the border, it had gotten warmer, though Varania had warned them that it might get colder again when they reached Weisshaupt, as it was situated between two mountain ranges that blocked most of the warm sunlight - at least that’s what she had been told. Everything else had gone by like a blur since they had crossed the border into Tevinter and hurried their way to Vol Dorma. Anders had wanted to avoid confrontation with any bandits, maleficar, or slavers so he’d been pushing them hard, though it had paid off. They had reached Vol Dorma within five days instead of eight.

“So when we get there, Varania, you are going to get us settled, right?”

The red-haired elf nodded. “I believe they will already have a room ready for you and Fenris since they were expecting the Commander and one other Warden to be travelling here. Connor and Ser Erik may have to sleep in the barracks, but I’ll see what I can do, especially as Ser Erik has papers for the First Warden from Queen Anora.”

“Where do you sleep?” Fenris asked her, turning his attention away from Tevinter for a moment.

“With the other new recruits. We have our own barracks until we go through the Joining and move into the regular barracks,” she replied. The sound of the wheels rolling over the dirt path was the only sound for a little while.

Anders scooted himself closer to Fenris after another minute of silence and leaned over. “How is your head?”

Fenris blinked and stared at him a moment before answering. “It is... better. The further from the mountains we are, the less pain I am in. The dreams were... easier to manage as well.”

“Good. Hopefully there are people in Weisshaupt we can talk to about your... peculiar situation, but I think you are somehow connected to the raw lyrium veins, and were feeling the darkspawn through the lyrium.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow at Anders, who shrugged. “At least, I hope that’s what was happening. The alternative is that you’re hearing the song of the archdemon, which would mean you’re either ready for your Calling after 2 months as a Warden, or that you’ve lost your mind and are going to kill us all.”

“I prefer the first theory.”

“Me too.”

“And-Nalls? How long will it take for us to get there?” 

“Forever, Connor. And if you ask me that again before we get there, I’m throwing you out the back of the wagon.”

“We’ve been travelling since yesterday morning! I’m tired. I just want this to be over with,” Connor whined.

“Get some sleep,” Ser Erik suggested. “We could all use the rest. When you wake up, we’ll be in Weisshaupt.”

Connor sighed heavily, but closed his eyes. Soon, Anders noted that the others followed suit, each falling asleep to the groaning of the wood as it rolled over the road, and the occasional snort from the horses.

It felt like he had only blinked before they were climbing out the back of the wagon, and paying the gentleman who had driven them. He stretched, feeling the joints in his back popping and pain shooting through his leg, reminding him that he was getting too old to sleep in a wagon like that.

The courtyard was full of people. Wardens coming back from patrol, traders selling their wares, villagers greeting loved ones and doing their shopping. It was reminiscent of Amaranthine, only with more Grey Wardens. Truth be told, he was a little overwhelmed. The last time he had seen Weisshaupt was as a child, being passed from one templar to another as he was taken to the nearest Circle with room for him.

He felt Connor pressing close against his back as they tried to stay out of the way. He could see Varania speaking with a soldier animatedly, gesturing toward them, though he couldn’t hear a word she was saying over the noise of the crowd.

“Oof.”

Anders looked down to see what had caught against his leg suddenly, the impact knocking some of the wind from his lungs.

Wrapped around his leg, looking up with a smile that had two teeth missing, was a little blonde girl.

_“Pappa! Pappa! Du är hemma!”_

He stared at her for a moment, blinking, confused. He knew that he would have to probably dredge up his native language again at some point while they were here, but he had not expected it so soon, and his mind was blank as he tried to remember the words.

_“Jens! Jag trodde inte att du skulle komma tillbaka förrän imorgon!”_

Now he was faced with a woman. She came up to him with a smile, and pushed a stray lock of hair from his face absently.

“Anders? Do you know these two?” Fenris said, stepping closer to the mage. Anders blinked again and shook his head, confused.

“I... I’m sorry, you’ve mistaken me for someone else...” Anders said, and carefully tried to extricate his leg from the little girl’s grip. The woman pursed her lips and rolled her eyes slightly at him, smiling.

_“Jens, reta mig inte.”_

“Um... Maker...” Anders pinched the bridge of his nose as he fought to remember the right words. “ _Jag_... um... _Jag är l...ledsen_?” He looked up at her, hoping that was the right thing. She was looking at him suspiciously now, and picked up the little girl.

_“Jag är inte Jens.”_

The woman stared at him intently for a moment, searching his face, which was making him uncomfortable before she nodded.

“No, you are not Jens,” she finally said, he accent thick, but understandable. “Your eyes are the wrong colour, and your hair has more grey. I am sorry for the mistake. You look much similar to him...” She frowned slightly, still looking at him closely. “You are not Krister either. He is older than you, and Henrik died three winters ago. Your accent is stiff. You have not spoken our language for a long time, have you?”

“I...”

“Commander!” Anders was pale when Varania came jogging up to them, but seemed relieved for the interruption. “They’ve got a room ready for you and Fenris. Erik and Connor will have to sleep in the barracks with the guards since they weren’t expecting you to have them with you.”

“Thank you Varania,” he told her with a nod, and a look that said he was more than thankful to have a reason to get out of the courtyard and away from this woman and child. He glanced at them again and hesitated. “I am sorry again for the confusion.”

He saw her nod and smile before he turned away, allowing Varania to lead him into the Keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Combination_NC for her assistance with the Swedish!
> 
>  _“Pappa! Pappa! Du är hemma!”_ \- Papa! Papa! You're home!  
>  _“Jens! Jag trodde inte att du skulle komma tillbaka förrän imorgon!”_ \- Jens! I thought you weren't due back until tomorrow!  
>  _“Jens, reta mig inte.”_ \- Jens, stop teasing me.  
>  “ _Jag_... um... _Jag är l...ledsen_?” - I... I am sorry?  
>  _“Jag är inte Jens.”_ \- I am not Jens.


	13. Scars

“No.”

“I am sorry, sers, but this is the only room that was provided for you.”

Fenris and Anders looked at each other and then at the single, full-sized bed they’d been presented with.

“No,” they said in unison again.

“I can try to arrange for a bunk in the barracks for your associate,” the servant said with a sigh.

“That would be-”

“No,” Anders interrupted the elf before he could accept the offer. “Just... bring some extra blankets and pillows. We’ll make due.”

The servant bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“I am not sharing a bed with you, mage.” Fenris crossed his arms and looked critically at Anders. The blond was still pale as he sat down in one of the two chairs that adorned the room. Fenris frowned and uncrossed his arms, moving over to Anders and kneeling in front of him. His gloved hands covered the mage’s, which were shaking slightly. “Anders?”

Anders drew in a shaky breath, his eyes focused on his trembling hands and Fenris’ gloves. “I’ll sleep in a chair. Or use the bedroll on the floor. You can have the damn bed.”

“Is this about the woman in the courtyard? She called you by another name, didn’t she? Jens? She mistook you for someone else.”

“I think a bath. Perhaps and something warm to eat would help. I’m just tired,” Anders said, pulling his hands away from Fenris abruptly and standing. “He said there was a bathing chamber down the hall, didn’t he?”

“Anders...”

“And the dining hall was downstairs... I’ll have to get someone to show me again.”

“ _Anders_.”

“Then I should probably check on Connor, make sure he’s alright-”

“ _Anders!_ ” Fenris caught him at the door, putting his hand against the wood to keep the mage from opening it. The room was silent for a moment as Fenris gazed at the mage’s face, trying to glean something from his avoidant gaze.

“...I know that we are... not the best of friends. However, you...” Fenris pursed his lips and leaned his shoulder against the door, crossing his arms and looking away. “You have done much for me recently, and... I would repay you if I could.”

Anders closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the door, remaining silent. After a beat, Fenris made a frustrated noise, he was sure he did not use the right words, or perhaps Anders just didn’t want to speak with him. He pushed away from the door, giving the mage leave to exit the room now if he still wished it. Fenris knelt down and began to go through the pack he had carried into the room, and pulled out one of the bedroll blankets to shake it out.

“I was twelve years old when the templars took me.”

Fenris froze for a second before slowly continuing what he was doing. “Is that a young age for a mage to be taken?”

“No. I was old. Most are taken when they’re five or six. Too young to remember the parents and families they left behind.”

The elf glanced over and saw that Anders had not moved, his head still against the wood and hand on the door handle. He didn’t know how to respond, so he remained silent.

“I remember my family. I remember my mother, and my father. I remember my brothers and my sister.” Anders’ hand dropped from the door knob and he slowly turned around, leaning his head back and opening his eyes to look at Fenris. “I had two older brothers. Henrik was eighteen and Krister was fifteen. One younger brother, Jens. He was nine. My sister was the youngest, Katrine. She was four or five I think.”

“That woman... she...”

“Is married to Jens. Who.... I guess, is a Grey Warden. The little girl...” Fenris could see that Anders was trembling again, and he slid down the door, pulling his knees to his chest. “I can’t. Fenris, I hate this place. I want to go back. Nate should be the one here.”

Fenris shifted uncomfortably. His issues with his own family were numerous - he had barely spoken to Varania the entire time they had travelled from Cumberland to Weisshaupt. This was well outside of his element. He stood up, shaking the blanket out gently before putting it onto the bed.

“Perhaps... I could find the dining hall. Bring something back for you. Then you could bathe,” Fenris said, glancing at the mage and shifting again. Anders was quiet before finally standing up again and moving away from the door, his face suddenly blank. Fenris hesitated briefly, not sure if he’d done or said something wrong before he opened the door and slipped out of the room. Anders would feel better after he had cleaned himself and eaten, Fenris was sure.

“Fenris!”

The elf looked down the hall to see Connor coming toward him with a bright smile.

“Varania told me where you two were staying. I wanted to make sure I could find it.”

“Did they settle you into the barracks then?”

“Sort of. Ser Erik is in the barracks with the soldiers, Varania found me a spot in the infirmary. I’m not as good at healing as Anders is, but I can help out some, and they’ll let me sleep in there as long as I help.”

“Good,” Fenris nodded and checked the halls again. “Do you know where the dining hall is yet?”

“Oh yeah, I came through it trying to get here. I’ll show you.” Connor gestured for Fenris to follow, leading him back to the main staircase. “Is A... Err... Nalls okay?”

Fenris grimaced slightly. He’d been guilty of slipping the mage’s name as well. It was hard to call him something different when he’d been ‘Anders’ for almost a decade. “He is... unhappy.”

“Is it because of that lady in the courtyard?”

“It is... not my place.”

“Sorry. I just... He’s been really nice to me. I know he wasn’t happy about having to come here. Do you think we’ll have to stay long?” Connor pushed open an heavy set of doors to reveal a dining hall much like the one at Vigil’s Keep, though a great deal larger. Fenris paused in the doorway and looked at the young mage.

“I hope not.”

Fenris checked around the hall before collecting something for himself to eat and settling in a corner alone. He would give Anders some time to bathe before bringing anything up. The hall was huge, easily twice the size of the mess hall at Vigil’s Keep. There were _hundreds_ of people there, talking, laughing, drinking, eating, entering and leaving again. It was a little overwhelming. He’d never been anywhere like this in his memory. He knew that the fortress of Weisshaupt was supposed to be the centre of the Grey Wardens, but he hadn’t expected so many of them. He supposed Ferelden was a little special. Nathaniel had sort of given him a history of the Wardens there, how they’d been driven out at one point and had only recently come back, so the Order was not very large yet. The sixty-some-odd Wardens at the Keep was the most he’d seen in one place, even with the extra hundred guards and Silver Order knights that were wandering around. These people were all Wardens though. He could feel them, and it was disorienting. Fenris wondered if this was what it would feel like when he finally went into the Deep Roads again.

He was only about half-way through his food when the pressure became intolerable. He collected more food onto a tray for Anders and made his way back upstairs, hoping the mage had taken the time to bathe.

Fenris opened the door to their room and glanced in. Anders appeared to be laying on the bed, his back to the door. The elf entered, closing the door behind him and set the tray down on the table.

“Anders, I brought some food.”

The mage did not reply and Fenris frowned, moving over to the bed. Anders’ hair was damp, and he was dressed in only breeches, so Fenris assumed the mage had gone to clean himself up. He realised that Anders had fallen asleep and raised his eyebrows before glancing around the room. The mage would catch cold like that.

He found the extra pillows and blankets had been delivered and picked one up. Fenris moved back toward Anders, intending to cover him with the blanket, but paused. The only time he’d really ever seen the mage with his shirt off was when he and Nathaniel had rescued Fenris from the templars - and the elf had been a little too preoccupied at the time to really look at the mage.

Now he took the time. Especially as the mage’s back was facing him and showing him something that he had never imagined to see on the blond.

Fenris moved closer and knelt onto the floor next to where Anders was laying on the bed, staring wide-eyed at the scars criss-crossing the mage’s back. Some of them he could recognise as badly healed wounds from weapons; swords, arrows, and the like. They were thin, pale marks against the mage’s skin, obviously things that he or someone else tried to heal in a hurry. The ones that really held Fenris’ attention were the thick scars, the scar tissue criss-crossing all over Anders’ spine.

They were familiar to him. He’d seen them many times on the slaves in Tevinter; flogging scars. Apparently, they hadn’t let Anders heal himself afterward. Fenris frowned, his fingers reaching out gently to touch one of the scars. He jerked backward suddenly as Anders moved, rolling onto his back with a sigh. The elf stood up, he would put the blanket over the mage and go find Connor or take a bath himself or something. He started to throw the blanket over the mage when he was distracted by yet another scar. This one was on Anders’ chest, right by his heart. Judging from the size of it, Fenris was surprised that the blond was still alive. 

He put the blanket over the mage then. There was so much he didn’t know about Anders, though Anders knew practically everything about him. It was strange, he realised that even in all those years they’d followed Hawke, the mage rarely spoke about himself or his own experiences. Fenris didn’t even know how the mage had come to be merged with Justice. He just knew Anders was from the Anderfels, and had been living in the Ferelden Circle, which he escaped from seven times, and became a Grey Warden. All that came after was the mage in Kirkwall and the slavers and Amaranthine. 

Sighing, Fenris collected a towel and decided that perhaps he should go bathe as well.


	14. Night Horrors

“Stupid boy, what have you done?!”

The sky was alight with fire and ash. His father still looked huge to him, even as an adult; farmer, woodcutter, and carpenter; his big blond beard, broad shoulders, and thick biceps. The man gestured at the carnage around them, causing the mage to grimace in anticipation for a blow..

“Look at these people you’ve killed! The destruction! It will take months to get the barn back up again!”

Anders looked around him, gazing at the stone streets of Kirkwall. The dead bodies lying everywhere. Some were completely beyond recognition, burned and charred from the fires and explosions.

His eyes rested on the bearded face of Hawke, his eyes wide and unseeing, Isabela’s dagger still in his stomach and the Tranquil brand still red and angry on his forehead. Isabela was a few feet away, bruised and broken, blood everywhere and her clothing half torn off. 

He closed his eyes, his stomach lurching.

“Don’t close your eyes, boy, look at what you’ve done! Face up to it like a man!” He felt a rough tug on his hair, tilting his head up. Anders opened his eyes again to see Aveline hanging from an archway, a sign around her neck that said ‘Traitor’. He looked down and saw Varric torn to pieces by an abomination. The abomination had a crossbow bolt in its forehead, the only hint of who it had been shredded green cloth and chainmail hanging from its body.

He blinked rapidly, trying to remove the tears from his eyes, but his head was forced in another direction by the hand in his hair.

Fenris was sitting in the middle of a pile of dead darkspawn. His armour was in pieces, his hair was plastered with dark blood. Anders could see dark bruising creeping up the warrior’s arms and neck, and he turned to look at the mage with sightless, clouded eyes.

Anders reached out, wanting to go to him. Fenris was still alive. He could be fixed. Maybe the others weren’t really dead, and he could save them. He’d saved them before, hadn’t he?

“Oh no, you’re going in the cellar. The templars are coming to get you and I won’t have you running off and making an even bigger mess somewhere else, boy. Henrik went to the Chantry to get them and when he gets back they’ll take you off my hands.” The hand in his hair started to pull and Anders kicked and cried in pain as he was dragged down the street before being pushed into a dark hole. He stumbled and tried to pull himself up as he saw the window of light begin to disappear as the door was closed.

“No! Please! No! NO!”

He sat up, gasping for air and sending the cat on his chest tumbling to the floor. The room was too small. He was trapped and needed to get out before the templars came.

Anders rolled out of the bed and stumbled toward the door, not caring that he was still only half-dressed. He almost made it to the door when something wrapped around him from behind and lifted him bodily from the floor. The mage snarled, blue flashing in his eyes and magic gathering in his hands. He would not be held here. He would not be stopped. He would leave.

“Anders!”

The word cut through the fog, the voice deep and growling in his ear. Then there was lyrium in the air, sweet and tangy. Anders could feel himself slowly relaxing into the grip around his arms and torso, the fear and anger fading.

He was in Weisshaupt. He was with Fenris. There were no templars. No one was dead. Hawke and Isabela were on a ship somewhere with Merrill; Varric was wandering Thedas telling stories; and Aveline was Viscount of Kirkwall. Anders drew in a shuddering breath and when the grip on his began to loosen, he turned and buried his face against the elf’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Anders whispered, taking slow, deep breaths.

“You had a nightmare. I tried to wake you, but you couldn’t seem to hear me. I called ‘Nalls’ a few times, but you weren’t answering to it.” He could hear the frown in Fenris’ voice. The elf was awkward and stiff now, unsure of how to handle the mage curled into his arms.

A knock at the door gave him an excuse to let go of Anders, moving to see who was there. Anders stared at the floor for a moment, hearing low voices in the hallway. He leaned over and picked Pounce up then, settling back onto the bed.

“I’m sorry I tossed you, Pounce,” he said softly to the cat as he pet him. “You don’t mind letting me touch you, do you?” 

The cat meowed plaintively at him and jumped onto the floor. He appeared to still be annoyed at having been thrown off the bed, and the petting had been a little rough. Anders watched him walk across the room and settle down onto a pile of laundry with a haughty look.

He had not cried in a long time, but right now he wanted to cry. He wanted to go back to Ferelden. He wanted a do over.

“They’re requesting our presence,” Fenris said, closing the door and turning to the mage. Anders looked up at him, tired and miserable and shrugged.

“Fine. When and where?”

“As soon as possible, in the Commander’s ready room. There is a Warden waiting to show us the way, so you’d better get dressed.”

 

Anders sighed and stood up, collecting his clothing from the pack by the foot of the bed and pulling it on as quickly as possible.

“I learned last night, after you fell asleep, that they sent out a general call to all Warden Outpost Commanders. We were the last group to arrive. The First Warden is in Hossberg, trying to help the King and the Grand Cleric make a decision in regards to the Circle there. Apparently he was supposed to return today.”

“Supposed to?” Anders echoed, pulling on his boots. He looked distastefully at his armour, which was in a pile on the small table in their room. Official meeting meant official armour however, and he reached over and began sorting out the pieces. At least he didn’t wear plate.

“The Warden said that only one of the First Warden’s entourage returned this morning, and he’s in pretty bad shape.”

Anders paused a moment in his ablutions, his eyes wide and his eyebrows arching. “Don’t tell me they’re actually holding the First Warden hostage in Hossberg?”

Fenris shrugged. “I assume that’s what we’re going to find out,” the elf replied, adjusting his gloves and buckles.

“Great. Just bloody great.”


	15. Commanders

The room was not as full as Fenris expected it would be when they entered. They were shown to seats near the center of the long table. As soon as they were settled, a side door opened and a woman entered the room, flanked by two men. She dropped herself into the chair at the head of the table while the other two sat on either side of her.

“Good morning, Commanders,” she said with a nod around the table. Her eyes lingered on Anders for a brief moment, a slight furrow in her brow before she continued. “I am Commander Solberg, second to the First Warden here in Weisshaupt.”

“You were all called here by the First Warden originally. He wished to discuss the current events in the Free Marches, and wanted to know how they were affecting each of your own countries and outposts. He was scheduled to return today after a short visit to Hossberg to speak with the King and the Grand Cleric about our own situation.”

Fenris glanced at the mage next to him, who leaned back in his chair a bit, seeming to sink down. Anders was uncomfortable and worried. The elf sighed, his fingers dancing restlessly on the arm of his own chair as he watched the woman gesture to one of the men next to her.

“Warden Skovsgaard was with the First Warden’s entourage to Hossberg, and returned to us late last evening, his horse half dead as well as himself, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder and a sword wound in his belly.”

Fenris blinked and stared at the man she had gestured to. He had moved forward a little and nodded to the group. His arm was in a sling and he had a loose shirt on instead of Warden armour, probably to cover any bandages around his torso. His hair was shorter than Anders’, and blonder. His eyes were blue instead of brown, and he had the hands and body of a farmer, or a swordsman. His nose was the same though, his cheekbones and chin.

“Jens, go ahead,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

“Thank you, Commander,” he replied with a nod. There was an accent to his speech, but his voice was similar to Anders’ as well. Jens gave the table a familiar crooked smile. “We were attacked by Templars as we were leaving the Circle Tower in Hossberg. The First Warden had wanted to speak with the Knight Commander there about how the Circle was doing. If there were any problems or if the mages were showing any signs of rebellion.”

Next to him, Anders snorted. The younger man paused a moment, but as Anders was still hiding partially behind the person next to him and said no more, Jens continued on.

“There were no mages with us, so the Templars had no reason to attack. I barely got away with my life. I believe of the five of us, two were killed, I escaped, and the other two along with the First Warden were captured and taken back into the tower.”

Commander Solberg moved forward again, a sheaf of papers in her hand. “Coincidentally, yesterday I received a delivery from a gentleman in the employ of Queen Anora of Ferelden. He gave me copies of letters that came from the Divine and Empress Celene indicating that Her Imperial Highness has been sneaking Orlesian soldiers into other countries disguised as Templars.”

Fenris winced as a small group of Orlesian Wardens made a small outcry of displeasure at the accusation but Commander Solberg waved her hand dismissively at them. “Gentlemen, you know your Empress, and these letters are irrefutable, they have been confirmed as truth by the Grand Cleric of Denerim herself.”

She stood and turned to look toward Fenris and Anders. “It is also my understanding that the Templars of Ferelden had been laying siege to our outpost of Amaranthine and demanding that we hand over all mage Wardens. When they were rebuffed, a few months later, they marched in strength to Vigil’s Keep and attacked it. The result of that battle is that Queen Anora expelled all Templars from the country, as the Knight Commander confirmed that many of his troops were not templars but Orlesian soldiers in disguise. As of one week ago, if this letter is correct, there are no more Templars in the entire country of Ferelden.”

Around them, the Wardens began to talk amongst themselves, shocked at the idea.

“Those four are from Orlais, and those two from Ansburg,” Anders leaned over and whispered to Fenris, who nodded. It would make sense then. It was his understanding that the Anderfels were very devout Andrastians, as were the Orlesians. Ansburg was close to Antiva and traded with Starkhaven a great deal, so the idea of no Templars to any of these places was probably blasphemy of the highest.

“Commander... Skovsgaard?” Solberg turned to him, her eyebrow raised. The mage stiffened in his seat and Fenris looked past him to see the younger warden sit up suddenly. Anders took a deep breath before turning and smiling at her.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Can you please outline what has occurred in Ferelden?”

Fenris could see Anders pale at the very idea, and stood up. “I will, Commander Solberg. Warden Fenris. I am Commander Skovsgaard’s... assistant.” She nodded to him and Fenris began the tale. 

He started with what he knew of the Templar siege of Amaranthine; the men at each gate checking all travellers, as well as the small contingent of Templars outside the Vigil’s gates - the ones he remembered Commander Tabris bickering with over the walls while he was still blind. He mentioned the children that were being housed and protected after the Annulment of the Ferelden Circle, and Commander Tabris’ refusal to hand them over to the Templars. Fenris described the attack of the Templars on the Warden group that had been in Redcliffe and the capture and murder of the Wardens that had occurred, and the subsequent rescue by Commander Tabris. He continued with the disappearance of Commander Tabris, and their assumption that she had been called to Weisshaupt, followed by the attack on the patrol Sigrun and himself had been leading. Fenris glazed over the rescue a little, but noted that he was retrieved from the Tower and had found Senior Enchanters, including the First Enchanter in the dungeon under deplorable conditions along with himself. Then he finished with the actual battle outside of Vigil’s Keep; the election of Commander Skovsgaard as the new leader until further notice, and Assistant Commander Howe (who was handling the Keep right now); the arrival of the Queen and the conversation (as he knew it from Nathaniel’s recounting) with Knight Commander Gerald.

Fenris sat back down when he was finished and reached across the table to pour himself some water. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever spoken so much in one go in his entire life. She nodded and stood again, looking around the table.

“Wardens, Queen Anora has offered succor to our mages. As there are no templars, she has handed us an olive branch, offering to take in all Warden Mages to Ferelden for training, and protection. It is her feeling that they would thrive under a Mage Commander, and-”

“Mage Commander?” one of the Orlesians straightened in his seat and stared across the table at Anders. “You, Serah, are a mage?”

There was silence for a moment before Anders replied. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course! You cannot be in charge! What if you are possessed? There are emissaries that can sway the minds of Wardens, and mage Wardens are easier to sway than others!”

“You speak of Corypheus.”

The Orlesian winced, glancing at Solberg who raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“I helped kill him, you know. And the Architect,” Anders said, crossing his arms.

“You?” Solberg frowned. “You were with the Champion of Kirkwall?”

Anders hesitated, wincing at his slip before nodding. “Yes.”

Solberg looked thoughtfully at him for a moment before turning to the group. “Wardens, I believe the real issue here is what we will do to retrieve the First Warden. We can decide on our mages and where they will go after that has been solved.”

“We have to rescue him, obviously,” one of the Wardens from Ansburg said.

“That would be very risky. They may kill him.”

“No,” Fenris said with a shake of his head. “He is no use to them dead. If he is alive, he is a bargaining chip. He is the power of the Anderfels and the Grey Wardens at the fingertips of the Templars and Orlais. If they kill him, there will be a new First Warden, out of their power.”

“Have any demands been sent?” an Orlesian asked.

Solberg shook her head. “Not yet.”

“I can guess what they’ll ask for,” Anders piped up again. “That you turn over all mages to them and not interfere in their culling. Also that you stay neutral when the Orlesian army comes marching through the mountains to save you from yourselves and Tevinter by adding you to the glorious Orlesian Empire.”

“I believe our best bet would be to send a few rogues, and a healer to try and break into the Circle.”

“Why don’t you just march your whole damn army down there and raze the place?” Anders said, standing up for the first time. Fenris could hear a slight echo in the mage’s voice and put a hand on Anders’ arm. “It doesn’t seem to occur to you that if you leave the Templars there, they’ll just start killing mages and then come marching down here to try and start killing your mages too, does it?”

A slight gasp diverted the elf’s attention for a moment and he saw Warden Jens staring at Anders, eyes wide and face pale, as if he’d seen a ghost. 

“Nalls...” Fenris said, hoping to calm the mage down a little, but he tugged his arm away.

“Of course, it won’t matter to you until they decide that Warden mages are the ones that need to die. Who cares if a hundred or so men, women, and children are killed by Templars as long as they’re _just mages_. It doesn’t even matter whether or not they’re being rebellious, because Maker _forbid_ they want the same rights as everyone else. _Obviously_ they should be punished and killed for their impertinence.”

“Commander Sko-”

“No! Do what you will, it’s not like my opinion matters anyway, since I’m just a _mage_ ,” Anders snapped, glaring across the table at the Orlesian who had spoken before. He pushed away from the table and stalked to the door.

Fenris scrambled to his feet to follow, hesitating only to bow to Commander Solberg before following his mage to make sure the idiot didn’t hurt himself or someone else by accident.

“What was that?” the elf demanded when he caught up to the blond, only a handful of steps from the door they’d just exited.

“It’s stupid. I won’t sit by and listen to them plan to rescue one man out of an entire tower of people who will be sentenced to die just because they were born with magic.”

“Nalls, you can’t-”

“Nalls!”

Anders paused and turned slightly. He swallowed and paled before turning back to Fenris and walking faster. “I can’t face him right now. I can’t. Please, Fenris.”

He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Warden Jens was trying to catch up to them, though he wasn’t moving very quickly with his wounds. The elf sighed, Anders would have to face the man at some point, but now was probably not a good time. “Turn left at the next corridor, it’ll take us into the mess hall, we can get lost there.”


	16. Infirmary

The mage was swaying slightly in his seat, but Fenris knew that if he made any suggestions that Anders rest, he’d be brushed off. So, he stood by the door, his arms crossed, watching silently. They had come to the Infirmary to visit Connor, and Anders had been so appalled by the amount of patients in the room, that he had immediately set himself to work.

A brief conversation with the healer on duty indicated that the fortress did not have a Spirit Healer. All who worked in the infirmary were knowledgeable in only the most basic of healing spells and first aid. Apparently the Circles guarded their Spirit Healers jealously, and the fact that Feyar had gotten ahold of one in Ferelden was quite the feat.

So the mage had removed his outer armour and rolled his shirt sleeves up before diving in. He had started with the beds by the door and had begun to work his way slowly around the room. Already the infirmary was free of fully half the patients they had started with that morning. Most of them very simple things for Anders to fix, and he showed the healer on duty what to do in the future for them. The more difficult things would require more healing talent than the other mage had, but she helped anyway, watching Anders intently as Fade energies flowed through him. Fenris could feel when he had a difficult patient, the spirit magic pulling on his brands in a way that no other magic did. She had also sent word to the mage who was in charge of the infirmary that a Spirit Healer was in the fortress and Anders had collected a small audience of the mages and assistants who worked in the infirmary on a regular basis.

He had been at it for hours now, and was resting in a chair, while some of the more mobile patients were coming to him when Fenris heard the bickering in the hall. It was in Anderfels, so he couldn’t understand it, but he turned and looked out into the hallway anyway.

It was Jens. He was being pressed forward by the woman they had seen the other morning, apparently his wife. Jens froze and they stared at each other for a moment before the wounded man came forward to Fenris tentatively, looking as if he hoped the elf would not run away again.

“Hello, Warden Fenris,” he said, biting his lip in a way that made Fenris feel déjà vu.

“Hello, Warden Jens,” Fenris replied.

“You... come from Ferelden?”

“Yes.”

“Have you... known your Commander long?”

“Many years.”

“Has he ever... Spoken of his family?”

“No,” Fenris replied, crossing his arms and glancing back into the infirmary. “If you are here about your wounds, I would go in now. He is getting tired and will have to stop soon if he doesn’t pass out.”

Jens blinked and glanced into the room, his eyes widening slightly.

“Nalls is the Spirit Healer?”

Fenris nodded.

“It is all over the Fortress. Many of the villagers have come together to petition Commander Solberg for the right to see the Spirit... to see him.”

“Are they really so rare?” Fenris asked, his eyebrow arching as he glanced back at Anders and his audience.

“Oh yes,” Connor had come up next to him. “They rarely make it past their Harrowing, and even then many are killed or made Tranquil.”

“Why?” The elf frowned and Connor shrugged lightly.

“They have a connection with the Fade. Templars are scared of them. Think they’re talking to demons or such. They get accused of blood magic a lot,” Connor replied, looking at Anders. “It’s why so many mages we meet are primal or entropy mages. Spirit Healers - good ones - are guarded very closely by circles. It’s probably why they never made him Tranquil, even after he escaped so many times.”

Jens nodded before looking back at his wife, who gestured for him to go in. She followed him past Fenris over to Anders, who had just finished with another patient. Jens carefully sat down in front of the mage, who had not looked up at him yet, wincing with pain.

Fenris stiffened in anticipation when the mage finally looked up at his new patient and froze. The two stared at each other for a moment before Anders finally straightened, and Fenris could see his jaw set.

“What can I do for you, Warden?” he asked, and Fenris saw him glance over briefly before looking back at Jens.

“...My arm, and I may have torn the stitches in my stomach,” the younger man replied softly.

“Take off your shirt.”

With his wife’s help, Jens removed the garment and Anders began to unwind his bandages. Fenris could hear the mage’s clucking at the wounds. They were probably not up to his high standards of healing. He listened closely as Anders began to work on the wounds, cleaning them and removing the stitches to re-heal the wounds properly. Jens began to speak to him, softly, and apparently in Anderfels, as Fenris could not make out the words.

He could see Anders’ lips purse, however, as he listened to what Jens had to say to him. When Anders was finished with his brother’s stomach wound, he moved to the other man’s shoulder. It was then that Jens said something that caused the mage to stand suddenly, toppling his chair over and stumbling a little. Fenris hurried over, catching Anders before he fell over, having stood too quickly while he was still weak from overexerting himself. 

“Nalls?” Jens stood up, but winced in pain and his wife settled him into the chair again.

“Nalls?” Fenris repeated, softer. He held the mage carefully.

“Connor, can you please finish with this patient?” Anders finally said. “I... I’ve done too much for today. Fenris, can you help me back to our room?”

The elf blinked. Anders was not one who knew his limits, and the fact that he was volunteering to go back to rest meant that he badly wanted to be away from the infirmary, and probably his brother.

“Yes, of course,” Fenris said, frowning at Jens, who looked confused. Connor came over and took over, sitting down across from Jens after righting the stool. He helped Anders out of the room, glancing back once at the couple.

Anders wouldn’t speak in the hall, and only leaned on the elf until they got back to their room before he collapsed into a chair.

Fenris closed the door and moved over to the table, pouring Anders a glass of water. He held it out and knelt down to see the mage’s face better.

“So what did he say?”

Anders gulped the water down and closed his eyes.

“He asked me to help.”

“Help?”

“Commander Solberg is sending a group to the tower to rescue the First Warden, but she’s also going to send a battalion of Wardens to siege them.”

Fenris took the glass from Anders, he had begun to wring his hands around it, and the elf was worried he would break it.

“That’s not what upset you.”

“He told me that Katrine was in the circle.”

“Katrine?”

“My sister.”

“Oh. She is a mage too?”

“I guess so, yes.”

“Why does he want you to help?”

“He doesn’t trust the Orlesian wardens, and he wants me to make sure Katrine gets out safely.”

“He said something else.”

Fenris felt his heart skip when Anders looked at him. His face was a mixture of confusion, pain, but also relief. 

“When... when the templars took me, all those years ago,” he said softly, brown eyes locked onto green. “My mother tried to stop them. The templar hit her and she went down and I was dragged off in chains, on a horse. The last thing I saw was her bleeding on the ground, unmoving, and my father staring after us.”

Fenris nodded, and didn’t even flinch when the mage took his hand, breaking eye contact to stare at the lyrium lined fingers he was holding.

“I was sure she was dead. Jens... he told me he was going to write to her to tell her I was here.”

“She’s alive?”

“Yes. Living with my brother Krister and his family.”

The elf didn’t know what to say, he could tell that it was affecting Anders. He hesitated before pulling his hands from Anders’ and reaching around the mage to hug him. He wasn’t sure how he would feel if he’d found out his mother was alive when he believed her dead, and he knew that finding his family here in Weisshaupt, family that hadn’t instantly shunned him, had affected the mage deeply.

He heard Anders sob and the blond buried his face into Fenris’ shoulder, wrapping his arms around the elf. He pat Anders’ back with one hand, the other tangling into the mage’s hair. Fenris tangled his fingers through the strands, soothing. He had been tightly wound ever since they’d left Ferelden. It was a wonder he hadn’t fallen apart earlier.

Fenris would wait until the mage was resting, and then go speak with Commander Solberg about the mission. Anders would not be going anywhere without him, especially not with untrustworthy Orlesians.


	17. Älskare

“I did not realise your commander was a Spirit Healer.”

Fenris shrugged and glanced around Solberg’s office, taking in the paintings, books, and furniture. The wardens of the Anderfels seemed to live in quite a bit of splendor.

“He is the apostate from Kirkwall, isn’t he?” she asked, which drew Fenris’ attention sharply to her.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” she said, leaning back in her chair and steepling her fingers. “He goes by Anders, isn’t that so?”

The elf pursed his lips, frowning. His eyes followed the Commander as she brushed some loose brown strands out of her face and leaned forward again.

“I will not reveal his secret. Not with the Orlesian wardens here, especially. I don’t necessarily agree with what happened, but then... I wasn’t there. I don’t know or understand the circumstances involved, and he is a Grey Warden, voted by his fellow wardens to lead them, which says something.”

She made a dismissive gesture. “Besides, I do not have so many Spirit Healers at my disposal that I would turn him into the templars. Not that they would have any idea what to do with him if they had him.”

Fenris relaxed very slightly, but he would discuss this with Anders. If the mage wanted to leave, he would not argue.

“At any rate. You came here to ask me about what Jens told his brother?” The elf nodded. “Well then. I would like the Commander to assist. I believe if anyone can break into a Circle of Magi, rescue people, and break out again; he can. There are Deep Road caves that go beneath the building that the mages are housed in. I believe there may be a way into the cellars of the Circle from there.”

“He will not consent.”

Solberg raised her eyebrow and tilted her head at him. “Why do you say that?”

“...He... does not care for the Deep Roads.”

“He is a warden.”

Fenris pursed his lips and looked around the room, trying to figure out how to explain it without embarrassing the mage. “He... does not care for caves.”

Solberg looked thoughtfully at Fenris for a moment before nodding and reaching into her desk. She pulled out a scroll and unrolled it, revealing a map. “Here is where we are. I plan on sending a few hundred men to the circle. I have received word to indicate that the King may also be a prisoner. I am unsure if the Grand Cleric is involved in this or not, after reading the letters that Queen Anora sent more closely. The Divine seems to be in the dark about this plot of Celene’s. At any rate, I wish for Commander Skovsgaard to lead a small party into the cave network here.”

She pointed at the map. Fenris nodded and waited as she pulled out another map, unrolling it across her desk and pointing to another position. “This is the same spot in the Deep Roads. Following this path it should take some seven hours, as long as there is little trouble, to reach here,” Solberg pointed to another spot, “which leads to the dungeons of the circle, we believe.”

“You believe? You are not sure?”

Solberg shook her head and rolled the maps up before holding them out to Fenris. “We have not thoroughly explored that area, but the circle is directly above this spot, so it would make sense that there would be some way into the Deep Roads from there. The building the mages are kept in, was built during the Imperium, and many of them connect to the Deep Roads, as I am sure you are aware. It is likely the templars are also aware of these caves, as most circles have lyrium smuggling activities, I understand, and I’m sure this circle is no different. However... if they are distracted by our large army outside, I doubt they will be paying much attention to a handful of Wardens coming through their basement.”

“I shall show him the maps,” Fenris said finally, taking them from her. “And let you know his response.”

“Thank you.”

Fenris left, walking slowly down the hall back to the room he shared with the mage. Anders had finally cried himself out and fallen asleep a half an hour ago. He would leave Anders alone for a while longer to rest.

As he came around the corner, Fenris stopped short. Jens was waiting outside the door to their room.

“Warden Jens?”

The other man looked up and smiled at Fenris. His arm and stomach seemed to be doing much better now that he’d been healed properly. “Warden Fenris! I was waiting for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, I wished to... to talk to you. About Nalls.”

“He’s asleep.”

“Oh. I still wish to speak with you, however.”

“What do you want to speak with me about?” Fenris raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall, shifting the maps under his arm slightly.

“You said you have known him many years? I wish to know of his life. I do not think he will tell me.”

“Then it is not my place to tell you either. Not that I know much of it.”

“At least tell me how long has he been a Warden?”

“Eight or nine years, I think.”

Jens smiled and nodded, seeming to file the information away. “In Ferelden?”

“....Sometimes.”

“And you are his... I mean...” Jens frowned and looked at the ceiling, stroking his chin as he thought. 

_Babysitter? Bodyguard? Nursemaid?_

“I do not know the word in Trade... _Älskare_?”

Fenris shook his head. “I do not speak Anderfels.”

Jens just grinned and pat Fenris on the shoulder, not noticing the grimace the elf made. “It is fine. I can tell anyway. Promise me you will continue to take care of him well?”

The elf was thoroughly confused now. “Yes, that is why I am here.”

“Good, good. Thank you.” He pat Fenris again and then stepped away. “Perhaps when Nalls is feeling better, you can both come for dinner? Tessa is a good cook.”

“Um... perhaps.”

“I will let you go now. You tell him that I wrote to mamma after I left the infirmary today?”

Fenris nodded and watched Jens grin cheerfully at him again before disappearing around the corner.

_Dear Maker,_

_What was that?_

_Also, please make Anders feel better soon. I am tired of covering for him. His family is odd and I do not like the attention._

_~Fenris_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Älskare - Lover


	18. Dinner - Anders

How did he get himself into this?

Wait, he knew the answer to that. 

It had begun with Fenris telling him that they were invited, at his pleasure, to dine with his brother’s family.

It had then devolved into two days of worrying, arguing, whining, more worrying, more whining, and then finally Fenris leaving the room. He came back two hours later to inform Anders that they would have dinner with his brother that evening.

Anders had then proceeded to make himself sick to try to get out of it; which the elf was not buying, and he’d been physically dragged out of the fortress and to the village/town/city/thing outside and was now staring at his brother’s front door, wringing his hands, and -Oh Maker the door was opening.

_Dear Maker,_

_Please hit me with lightning. Now!_

“Hello, Nalls!”

_NOW MAKER. NOWNOWNOWNOWNOW._

“Fenris, it is good to see you again.” Jens was smiling at them and stepping aside so they could go in. Fenris waited, staring at him. Of course the elf would make him go first. Bastard.

_You don’t love me. If you loved me, you would’ve hit me with lightning._

Anders glanced up at the sky in disappointment before allowing himself to be trundled through the door by the elf. The inside of the cottage was warm and comfortable. There were some toys on the floor near the fireplace, and the little girl Anders had seen before stood up quickly, holding a doll behind her back and smiling at them.

“This is my daughter, Tanya,” Jens said, gesturing to the little girl. She came forward, shy, and hid behind her father. “ _Tanya, detta är din farbror Raghnall och hans Fenris vän._ ”

“ _Hallå_ ,” she said, smiling at them from around her father’s waist.

Anders felt a strange flutter in his chest as his brain translated what was said. _This is your uncle..._ He was an uncle. He had a niece. It was a very strange feeling.

“Hello,” he replied, feeling shy himself. He glanced at Fenris, who was looking at him with a strange expression. Anders shuffled a little, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. It was times like these that he missed his coat.

“She does not speak Trade very well yet, she is still learning,” Jens said, patting her on the head fondly. “Perhaps she will practice tonight?” Tanya ducked her head and smiled, pushing her face against her father’s side.

“Please sit,” Jens gestured to the chairs, taking one himself, and settling Tanya onto his lap, where she curled up, clutching her doll and watching as they sat down. Anders saw Fenris sitting stiffly on the edge of his chair, obviously uncomfortable. He wasn’t feeling much better, having suddenly no idea how to make small talk with his family. Anders chewed on his lip as he thought, looking around the room in hopes of finding some sort of topic.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes,” Anders replied gratefully, as Fenris nodded in agreement. Jens smiled and stood up, placing his daughter back into his chair before disappearing through a door, which Anders assumed led to the kitchen area. It was a small cottage, but comfortable. Probably just the main room they were in, a kitchen, and possibly two bedrooms. It was nice. 

“That reminds me,” Fenris said suddenly. Anders looked over to him and saw he was frowning slightly. “Your brother said a word to me before. He didn’t know the translation. It was... Hm... A... Ahss... Äska-”

“Here we are,” Jens said as he came back into the room carrying a bottle of wine and a few cups. “I am afraid we don’t have fancy glass here, but they do.” He handed each a cup and poured the wine.

“Tessa says that dinner will be ready soon.” He sat down in a new chair this time, choosing not to disturb Tanya. Anders nodded and swallowed some wine; drinking it much faster than he probably should have. Jens leaned forward and poured him a little more. “Have you thought about what Commander Solberg asked you?”

“Hmm?” Anders looked up from his cup. “Oh... Um... yes, I’ve thought about it. I’m... still. I don’t know.”

“She will let you take anyone with you that you wish,” Jens said. “If you are worried she will make you leave your äs-”

“Dinner is ready!” Tessa came into the room, wiping her hands on her apron and smiling. The men stood and Jens collected the cups and bottle. As they passed her, Anders heard her whisper, “ _Jens, vad är hans älskaren namn?_ ”

Anders stopped short through the door, causing the elf to crash into his back. He turned to look at his brother, ignoring the annoyed elf for a moment, a blush steadily creeping up his neck and face. They thought Fenris was his lover.

“I just remembered something. We have to go,” Anders said suddenly, trying very hard to keep his voice calm and level; though from the look on Fenris’ face, he was obviously failing. Jens looked at him, confused and startled by the declaration.

“I’m sorry. Maybe we can try again another night. I was supposed to do something. In the infirmary. I had someone to check.” Anders started to move backward, pushing Fenris with him toward the door.

“Oh. I see. Perhaps tomor-”

“Yes, perhaps. I’m sorry. Goodnight.” Anders pushed Fenris the rest of the way out of the cottage, shutting the door firmly behind them.

“What the void was that about?” Fenris snapped at him. “You’ve spent all day trying to-”

“He thinks you’re _my lover_ ,” Anders blurted before turning and marching back to the fortress. He didn’t want to deal with this on top of everything else. First his family, then the stupid mission Solberg wanted him to do, now they thought Fenris was his... his... _that_. It was ridiculous! Stupid! 

And the very idea was making his chest hurt.

Anders suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. He stopped moving and looked around. He had apparently made it back inside and was in one of the corridors of the fortress, somewhere he didn’t know - which was most of it, the place was huge.

It was quiet though, and there weren’t any people; Fenris seemed to have opted to not following him, thankfully.

He settled for curling up in a corner of the hallway, pulling his knees to his chest and taking slow breaths. Fenris was probably furious. The elf disliked him on the best of days; they did nothing but argue and bicker. In fact, they’d been fighting with each other basically since they’d met eight years ago. Though he supposed the more recent fighting didn’t have the venom it used to.

The elf was handsome, anyone with eyes could see that. He was intelligent, most of the time, when he wasn’t letting his anger run away with him.

Why was he even upset about this? Mortified, yes. Embarrassed, definitely. Upset? That didn’t make any sense.

The delicate peace they had arranged between them was probably shattered now. Things would be awkward and the elf would probably get surly again. Anders wasn’t sure, with all the other things he was currently dealing with, that he could handle Fenris being surly. It had been a constant source of stress and frustration when they were in Kirkwall, and then he didn’t have to be around the elf all the time. Now? Now he was Fenris’ “ _Commander_ ”, not even counting the whole fact that of all the people in Weisshaupt right now, Fenris and Connor were the only ones he explicitly trusted.

Anders took another deep breath, rubbing at the ache in his chest and closing his eyes.

_Dear Maker...._

_Shit._

_Nevermind._

_~Anders._


	19. Dinner - Fenris

“He thinks you’re _my lover_.”

Fenris blinked and stared after the mage, who was retreating back to the fortress.

Well that certainly explained a lot.

The elf continued to stand outside the cottage, trying to decide if he should go talk to Jens, to explain things; or if he should go after Anders. The mage was obviously horrified by the thought anyone could think of them in that way, let alone his newly discovered family. Fenris was sure that being with an elf would be embarrassing enough, let alone the idea of being with _him_. It wasn’t like they got along very well.

Yet, it bothered him that Anders seemed so... opposed to the thought, and he wasn’t sure why that was. 

Fenris was pulled out of his thoughts as the sky opened above him and began to rain. It was light, but he knew that winter rains could quickly turn nasty from experience - if the Anderfels weather was anything like Tevinter weather. He sighed and trudged back up toward the fortress, hoping that the mage would be less upset by the time he got back to their room.

By the time Fenris got back to their room, it was storming heavily outside; the thunder rattling the window panes and lightning streaking across the sky. He opened the door and frowned, noting that Anders was not there, but began to peel his wet clothing off anyway. Perhaps he’d gone to the infirmary as he had mentioned to his brother?

Fenris finished changing into dry clothing and picked up Pounce, who seemed annoyed at having been shut up in the room for most of their stay so far. The cat balanced himself onto Fenris’ shoulder as the elf made his way toward the infirmary.

It was quiet there, not many patients since Anders had started helping out, and teaching the mages more complex healing magic and advanced first aid. Connor was sitting on the cot they’d designated as his with a book, flipping idly through the pages and yawning.

“Is And- Is Nalls here?” Fenris corrected himself. Pounce jumped off of the elf’s shoulder and started to prowl around the infirmary, occasionally deigning to allow some poor soul to pet him as he went by.

Connor looked up and frowned, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t seen him since this morning. Weren’t you two supposed to be at dinner with his brother or something?”

Fenris sighed and sat down across from the young mage. “Supposed to, yes. It didn’t go well.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.... Yes. I don’t...” He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. Connor was a good kid, but not really someone he wanted to discuss this with. Though the person he wanted to discuss this with was currently just as confused and apparently upset as he was. He could talk to Varania, he guessed, but he still wasn’t sure how to feel about her.

“His family apparently thinks we are... involved.”

“Oh,” Connor frowned a little and then shrugged. “It’s an easy mistake to make.”

“It upset Anders quite a- wait, what?”

Connor blinked at Fenris and looked at him strangely. “Your sister wondered the same thing. I think the caravan were all convinced of it.”

Fenris could feel his ears and cheeks beginning to heat at the idea that all of those people thought that he and Anders were _together_. “Why would they think such a thing? We fight constantly.”

“Bickering. Like a married couple.”

“We do not!” Fenris stood up, feeling the heat move to his neck. “We’ve been at each other’s throats for years. We can’t... we...” The elf turned away from Connor, not sure how to handle this. He felt like an idiot, getting so embarrassed and defensive in front of a teenager, no less. He and Anders had a shaky friendship at best. The mage would probably want nothing to do with him now though, he had been so mortified by the idea of them being lovers. 

The mortification had hurt more than the actual revelation, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Shouldn’t he be angry that Jens had thought they were lovers? Shouldn’t he be incensed? Instead his throat felt tight when he thought of the look on Anders’ face, and the horror and embarrassment in his eyes as he’d shuffled them out of the cottage and into the rain. Was it really that embarrassing? Was _he_ something to be ashamed of?

Fenris stopped, suddenly realising he’d been pacing while he thought. His thoughts were not going in a direction that he was comfortable with. They conjured up memories of a warm chest holding him through the night; gentle hands helping him through darkness; and worried honey eyes staring down at him when he’d awoken after his Joining.

“He went off after... after things happened, and he wasn’t in our... in the room. If you see him, just. Make sure he’s okay.”

Fenris pursed his lips and turned, leaving the room quickly, not even realising that Pounce was still exploring.


	20. Mission

“Two sword and shield warriors and two rogues; and supplies for two weeks, to be on the safe side. Have them ready and at the main gate in an hour.”

“Supplies for six?”

“How does four plus one equal six?”

Solberg blinked at the blond as he turned from the door. “Warden Fenris-”

“Will be staying here. Do not take him with you, either,” Anders said, his voice holding an unmistakable note of command. She raised an eyebrow. “He has not been tested in the Deep Roads since his Joining, and this is not a good mission for him to cut his teeth on. Leave him in the fortress, it’ll do him some good. The amount of wardens around right now have been giving him headaches as he gets used to the feel of the Taint around him.”

“I see,” Solberg said, nodding. “I will have everything you need ready within the hour. The troops will be about a day behind you.”

Anders turned away again and opened the door.

“Commander?” He hesitated and glanced back at her. “Thank you.”

He shrugged and left her office, making his way back to his room. He’d fallen asleep in the hall the night before, curled into a corner; and had been woken by Pounce. The cat had apparently gotten out of the room he shared with Fenris and had found him. He had gone to the mess hall and curled into a corner with the cat, eating something before deciding to go to Solberg. He’d stopped in the Infirmary first, making Connor promise to watch over Pounce while he was gone.

Now he stood outside the room he’d been sharing with Fenris, hoping that the elf was not there. Anders took a deep breath and opened the door, finding Fenris sitting across from the door directly, his arms crossed and his lips a long, thin line. The mage ignored him, going to the bed and pulling one of the packs out from under it, he started to pack.

“Where are you going?”

“I accepted Solberg’s mission.”

“So we’re going-”

“I’m going. You’re staying here.”

The elf didn’t seem surprised. “Why?”

“Because your markings. I don’t want the mission to be compromised because you’re listening to a song and can’t concentrate. I know you’ve been walking around with a migraine since we got here.”

He saw Fenris twitch out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not any other reason?”

“What other reason would I have?”

“What your brother said the other night comes to mind.”

Anders’ heart was thundering in his ears, but he continued his packing, deciding not to reply to the elf. Partially because he didn’t know what to say, and partially because he could feel his face turning red again. He picked up the bag when he was finished and turned to the door. “I should be back in a few days.”

“You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I won’t be alone.”

“I meant...”

“I know what you meant. Stay here Warden, it’s an order.”

Fenris stiffened in his seat and pursed his lips. “Yes, Commander.”

Anders set his shoulders again and left the room, going down to the courtyard to meet his unit.

They were hard to miss. Mainly because his brother was among them, waving at him as he came out. Perhaps he would have to go back in and set fire to Commander Solberg.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked as he walked up to them.

“Yes, yes. All ready,” Jens replied cheerfully. He had a shield strapped to his back and a sword at his side. Of course.

“Introductions. I assume you all speak Trade?”

Jens nodded and began the introductions. Anders’ shield warriors were Jens and a dark-haired woman named Kara; a blond male elf named Casmir was his dual-wielding rogue; and finally a dark-haired female elf named Eila, who appeared to be an archer.

“This is Commander Raghnall Skovsgaard - he is the Spirit Healer, and my broder,” Jens said proudly, patting Anders on the back. “We are just waiting for Fenris, no?”

“No. Move out.”

Jens blinked in surprise as the others all picked up their packs. “You joke, yes? You would not leave him behind?”

“He is not needed on this mission, he would be a hindrance,” Anders replied stiffly.

“But he-”

“He is _not_ my lover, Jens,” the mage snapped, causing his brother to step back. “He is _not_ my babysitter, or my bodyguard. I am a grown fucking man; a mage; and a Grey Warden Commander. I can take care of my own Maker-damned self!”

Jens had stumbled a few more steps backward, but Anders had stopped, realising that everyone in the immediate vicinity had fallen quiet and were staring. Anders turned away abruptly, embarrassed at the outburst, and started toward the gate, letting the others scramble as they would to catch up with him.


	21. Road to Hossberg

They had set up camp away from the road in a cul-de-sac of rocks, effectively forcing any _thing_ on the rocky plains to come through one entrance to get at them if it felt ambitious enough. Anders sat by himself, a small fire near their escape route, his own bedroll. The others knew each other already, were familiar with each other. He was the outsider, the mage, the Commander from Ferelden who occasionally glowed blue.

He knew now he’d been glowing a little when he’d yelled at Jens in the courtyard that morning.

Anders sighed and spread the map out in front of him, looking it over again for the twentieth time. Weisshaupt was a three day journey from Hossberg by foot, and the cave they were making for was about a mile outside of the city. He shuffled the papers and pulled out the map of the Deep Roads he’d been given. According to that map, the cave should be fairly clear and there should be an entrance into the dungeons of the Circle of Magi from there. It was only supposed to be a few hours journey from the mouth of the cave. His plan was to get to the mouth by the end of the third day, camp outside and then hold his breath in the morning until they got to the circle. Now he just wished he knew what would be inside the circle when he got there.

“Here.”

Anders looked up from the maps, blinking at a steaming bowl being held out to him. He followed the bowl to a hand and an arm and up to his brother’s wary face. After some hesitation, Anders took it.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, poking at it for a moment. It gave him something to focus on.

“You are welcome,” Jens replied and sat down next to him. It was an awkward silence for Anders, and he tried to eat to give himself an excuse for not talking. “I am sorry.”

He looked up at Jens again, surprised. “You’re? ...Oh... I... I’m sorry too. For yelling.”

“You do not need to apologise. You were right. I made... what is the word? Assumption? Yes, I made an assumption.”

“You aren’t the only one,” Anders mumbled, poking at his soup again.

“You are just friends. Old friends. I am sorry I thought otherwise. It just seemed...” Jens frowned. “The way he treated you. Protected you.”

Anders could feel a blush creeping up his face again and definitely did not want to continue following their line of conversation further. “We’re not really friends.”

Jens blinked and frowned deeper. “No, that is not true, I can see that.”

“Well... it’s complicated. We... sort of... hated each other for many years. And then he helped me with something. Okay, he wasn’t exactly willing and he didn’t help _me_ he was helping a friend who was helping me, so I sort of owed him a debt; then we got caught by slavers and were thrown together again and I got us out of there, because he’d been hit in the head and was blind, and we escaped to Amaranthine and the Hero of Ferelden let me back into the Wardens, but I sort of had a collar on that was suppressing my magic so I ran away again to find a way to get it off, and they found me again later and saved me from templars after his sight had come back - he had stayed with the Wardens and he was a little upset with me for running off without telling him since he couldn’t see and then after a few months the Commander disappeared and the templars captured Fenris on a patrol with some of the Wardens and his skin is full of lyrium so they thought he was a giant candy bar and took him off to the old Circle, which had been annulled already - the Commander was keeping mages in Vigil’s Keep in the mean time and helping them out, but anyway Nathaniel and I got him out of there and brought him back and then they voted me Commander and the templars attacked the Keep and we drove them off and the Queen came and then we got the letter from Weisshaupt and we’ve been travelling this whole time and we’ve known each other for eight or so years and I suppose we don’t exactly hate each other any more, but it’s all very complicated and confusing.”

Jens stared at Anders for a moment, seemingly waiting for the mage to take a breath; though Anders seemed to feel better after having gotten all of that off of his chest at someone, even if that someone probably only understood about half of what he’d been saying. He did take a deep breath then, and focused on his soup again, feeling much hungrier now than he had before. When he finished, he put the bowl down to the side and then looked at his brother, who was thoughtful.

“I have one question.”

“Okay?”

“What means ‘babysitter’?”

Anders laughed.

The rest of the evening was spent talking; Anders trying to remember how to speak Anders, and his brother learning new and interesting words in Trade. Mostly Anders kept Jens talking about their family. He listened with a smile, happy to hear that he had not only Tanya as a niece, but six other nieces and seven nephews between Henrik and Krister.

Henrik had done well with the farm after their father died - Anders didn’t ask much about him and Jens seemed to sense that Anders didn’t want to hear much. Their oldest brother had died three winters ago, a chest problem, like father and his oldest son had taken over. Henrik had gotten rid of most of the plant aspect that their father had been struggling with and making it mainly a dairy farm with goats. The other half of the business, the woodworking, had been taken over by Krister. The family all lived in cottages in and around the village, collecting wood, carving, building, cheese making, and milking. Even Krister’s wife, an intelligent woman from northern Orlais, had started skinning the goats that died and making animal-hide parchment from them to sell.

Anders smiled to himself as he listened, letting Jens babble on as long as he liked. He avoided answering most questions his brother posed to him, but told him he’d been taken to Ferelden and that he’d stayed there for many years, finally being conscripted into the wardens. He managed to be vague without being rude.

The next two days went by quickly, knowing they had to stay ahead of the main group of wardens, which should have left the morning after them, but also wanting to get to Hossberg with time to scout a little beforehand.

The other wardens had slowly warmed up to Anders after the first night, especially after they found out he actually did speak Anders and could understand them if they didn’t speak too quickly and gave him time to formulate his reply. Also if they overlooked some of his bad grammar and limited vocabulary.

Hossberg itself was soon looming ahead, and Anders sent Casmir and Eila into town to scout the area and find out what was going on while he and the others made camp in the mouth of the Deep Roads entrance. They had not encountered any darkspawn during their three day journey, which Jens assured him was unusual. He couldn’t feel them at the moment, but he had expected that - they were close enough to Hossberg that there would probably have been regular Warden patrols going through the area to keep it clear.

He sighed and stared at the fire, sitting as close to the opening as he could without being completely obvious to anyone who might be passing by. They didn’t want to attract more attention than was necessary, after all.

“Are you well?” Jens spoke quietly, settling next to Anders with a worried expression. The mage fidgeted and chewed on his lower lip, looking into the darkness of the cave, past the firelight.

“I... I’ll be fine,” he mumbled and rubbed a hand over his face. “Eila or Casmir back yet?”

Jens shook his head. 

“Wake me up when they get back. I need to get some sleep before we go in there,” Anders said, turning away from the cave mouth and pulling his back under his head.

_Dear Maker,_

_Please let this go by quickly and painlessly..._

_~Anders_


	22. Caves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for Claustrophobia.

He didn’t sleep.

Not with the cave there, staring at him. He tried, he really did, but it didn’t work. Everytime he closed his eyes, he just saw the cave. Waiting.

So he gave up finally, instead opting to make sure Jens knew the plan inside and out - just in case he became... indisposed for any reason. Then Eila and Casmir returned from scouting and kept him busy with their reports.

The Warden army was behind them, Eila had seen their campfires in the dark, and there appeared to be six or seven hundred of them - easily two-thirds of all the soldiers at Weisshaupt.

Casmir reported that the templars were all over the city - they patrolled the streets and accosted anyone outside after dark - it had taken a lot of sneaking to avoid getting caught. It was his understanding, from what he’d overheard, that the First Warden and the Princess were both being kept in the Tower and that the Rite of Annulement had been sent for a few days ago. He wasn’t sure how many templars were in the city, but there were certainly more there than usual. Casmir guessed close to three or four hundred, just patrolling the city itself, not including any in the tower or on the city walls. He also indicated that most of the city had either evacuated into the walls or elsewhere. Most of the buildings not located behind the safety of the stone were closed up and deserted. The templars had certainly worked quickly - or else had been planning this for some time.

The sun was beginning to peek through the mountains when he finally gave up waiting.

“Kara in front, Casmir with her. Jens and Eila you take the back. I’ll...” He took a breath, swallowing, “I’ll be in the middle. Keep an ear out for darkspawn and templars. I don’t think our little entrance is unknown to the templars if they are anything like the circle’s elsewhere.”

He stood then, hefting his staff and holding it tightly as everyone gathered their own packs and weapons.

“What do you mean?” Kara asked, adjusting the shield on her back and reaching for a torch. Anders stopped her, shaking his head before casting a mage-light a little above and in front of her.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the templars had been using these tunnels for lyrium smuggling,” he replied, steeling himself as they stepped into the darkness.

It swallowed him almost immediately, and he had to stop for a moment to breathe. He took one shuddering breath before Jens bumped into him from behind, pushing him forward into the narrow space and causing him to panic. These were not Deep Roads caverns, they were darkspawn caves. They were narrow and dark and hewn out of the rock by savage creatures searching for their song, not by methodical, anal dwarves.

“Nalls?”

“I’m fine!” he said, though he could hear the high, hysterical pitch in his voice and closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to calm down. He had the good fortune to be able to sleep through the ship voyage. The brief stint underground when the templars had attacked had put them into dwarven roads - high ceilings, wide thoroughfares. Even the Warden Prison with Hawke hadn’t been this narrow and dark - though that had the added fun of a crazy Tevinter Magister running around in the back of his mind to distract him.

The last time he’d been in a cave like this.... The Wounded Coast? Under the Gallows? Over a year ago, at the least.

“Nalls!”

The group had stopped, Kara and Casmir turning back to see what was wrong with their commander. Jens was hovering over him, and Anders could see the worried expression on his face in the magelight when he opened his eyes again.

“I’m sorry... Just. Give me a moment. I’ll be fine,” he said, though he looked far from it. Anders took another deep breath, tightened his grip on his staff and pushed forward, one hand against the wall as he forced himself forward.

Anders began to mumble to himself when the cave entrance disappeared around a curve. He started reciting his manifesto to himself. One foot in front of the other slowly. This was going to take much longer than seven hours if he kept this pace, but he also knew that this was as fast as he was likely to go. If it had been an actual Deep Road trail - a dwarven built one with lava pools and light and more space, they might’ve been fine, but he had not been expecting this.

It has only been an hour when they ran into their first obstacle.

“Ser! The passage is blocked ahead,” Kara called back to them. Anders didn’t notice they’d stopped until he bumped into Casmir’s back.

“Why have we stopped? We can’t stop, don’t stop, keep going, don’t fucking stop!” The note of panic was back again. Jens seemed to understand now why Anders had given him the maps before they’d entered and made sure he understood the plan thoroughly.

“Give him space,” Jens said, trying to move away from the mage with the others, hoping the slightly extra space would calm Anders, as he had slid to the floor and was curling up, trying to make himself as small as possible. “Kara come here, let me see the light.”

The other warrior came forward, the magelight still bobbing above her head as Jens pulled out the map and followed the corridor with his finger.

“There should be a side entrance,” he said. “Cas, check the wall for any switches or openings. If it’s caved in, we’ll have to go back and find another way around.” The elf nodded and went back forward with Kara trailing behind him. He folded the map and put it back into his pocket. “Eila, go back down a little and keep an ear out.”

Eila disappeared back the way they’d come as Jens knelt down next to his brother, frowning. Anders eyes were closed tightly and he seemed to be reciting something softly under his breath.

“Nalls? I’m going to light the torch.”

“No,” Anders said, his voice a little calmer than before. “Too much smoke. Not enough... Too tight. Won’t be able to breathe.”

Jens looked up at the ceiling, which he could reach with the palm of his hand. “I see, yes you are right. No ventilation.”

Anders kept his eyes closed, gripping his staff tightly. He tried to focus on the knots and grooves in the wood, taking slow, deep breaths.

“Can I do anything to help?” Jens asked softly, but Anders shook his head.

“Can we go now? The walls are moving. I can feel them getting closer,” he whispered. Jens looked ahead toward the magelight and squinted. The two were still working out if there was a way through or if they’d have to turn back.

“Not yet, I am sorry,” Jens replied softly. 

“If I’d known they were darkspawn tunnels instead of dwarven tunnels I would have told Solberg to sod off,” Anders said. He could feel the ceiling, the weight above him, the rough rock at his back. It felt like it was closing in, tighter and tighter, and it was all he could do to keep his mind in the present. “There aren’t any templars are there? I think they forgot me again, Mr Wiggums.”

Jens frowned and put a hand gently on Anders’ shoulder. The mage cried out in surprise, his eyes flying open and his staff swinging around. Jens caught the weapon before it knocked him in the head, but he could see that they needed to get through or get out soon or his brother would not be able to do anything, let alone try to break the First Warden out of prison.

“We’re through ser!" 

“ _Nalls? Det är jag, Jens. Du är säker_ ,” he said softly.

“ _Jens? Sover far? Du kommer att få problem om han märker dig_.”

Jens’ eyes widened slightly as comprehension dawned. “He’s not here, Nalls. You will be fine. We just have to go a little way further,” Jens said, standing up. He pulled Anders to his feet and glanced back the way they’d come. “Eila!”

The warrior pushed the group onward, following the map and making any decisions if they came to an impasse. He pulled his brother along, wincing every time the mage started to babble in Anders about their father. He wasn’t sure about the other things the other man would say sometimes, in Trade, about Mr Wiggums and templars, but he could guess that it was a similar situation to the memories of their father’s favourite punishment, and Nalls, being the rambunctious one, tended to end up punished the most.

After the hours of turning through the cave, Jens found he was somewhat impressed with his brother’s willpower - despite having receded almost completely into his own memory in terror, he still managed to keep the magelight strong above them, and had even had the presence of mind to heal Casmir’s head at one point when he knocked it against a stalactite.

Which is why it was worrying when the light suddenly went out.

Ahead, Jens could hear Kara swear, but she was quickly shushed by Casmir. After a moment of silence, Jens felt someone at his elbow.

“There are torches ahead ser,” Casmir whispered. “Think it’s a no-magic zone. The light went out just as Kara came to the edge of where the first torch was.”

Jens pursed his lips and nodded. “Go with caution. Eila, with them. I’ll stay here with Nalls. I think he’ll be alright when we’re out of the caves.”

The others nodded and moved ahead cautiously, Casmir leading the way and checking for traps. Jens led Anders forward slowly, trailing behind the others, not wanting their healer to get into anything they couldn’t get him out of again in his current condition. The moment they stepped into the light of the first torch, however, Anders seemed to rouse himself.

“Templars,” he whispered, looking ahead to where Kara, Cas and Eila had creeped around the bend.

It wasn’t long before Jens heard the clanging of swords and armour, and he urged Anders faster forward. When they came around the bend however, Casmir was already looting the bodies of two templars in a cavern that was much larger than anything else they’d been in. He could feel Anders relax against him.

“There are... wards around the room. Probably to make it easier to catch any mages that try to escape this way,” Anders said, his voice hoarse after an almost constant stream of words since they’d come into the cave. “Once we go through the doors, I’ll be able to use magic again.”

Jens seemed relieved that Anders was coherent again and helped his brother over to the door. Anders stood up straight, gripping his staff and trying to focus on the wall in front of him. After a moment he pushed a brick and the wall opened, revealing a staircase.

“Cas, check it out.”

The elf nodded and moved forward, slipping up the stairway as Anders sat down on the first step, taking deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kara interrupted, waving her hand at Anders. “You were prepared for this. You knew it was a possibility and made sure we all knew our parts in case something happened to you. A little warning next time of what might happen might be nice, but overall, there is nothing for you to apologise for.”

Anders smiled wanly. “Hopefully there will not be a next time.”

Casmir came down a moment later with a grin. “All clear. There was only one and he’s not a problem anymore. It’s some sort of dungeon I think. There’s cells. I think there might be people in them.”

Anders nodded and stood up again, leading them back up the stairs. He could feel his magic trickling back the further up they went. When they finally came into the hallway, he could see an area that looked very familiar to him, though a little less... round.

“Open all these doors,” he said, leaning over the dead templar and pulling the keys from his belt. He tossed the ring to Jens and leaned against the wall. “Let them all out.”

Twenty minutes later, Anders was facing six mages, two grey wardens, and a young girl who was very loudly proclaiming how maligned she was and how angry her father was going to be at this treatment.

“Shut up,” Anders told her, too tired to stand on any ceremony. “Mages-”

“How DARE you! I am the PRINCESS!”

Immediately everyone around her knelt down, paying deference to the Anders royalty; except Anders.

“You could be the Empress of Par Vollen for all I care,” he snapped. “I’m tired, I’m cranky, I’m claustrophobic and I just had to march through miles of tunnels to get here to save a princess of a country I don’t live in, and the First Warden. Frankly, I care more about these mages here who are about to be massacred than you’re _discomfort_ at having to spend a few days in solitary confinement. So shut. Up.”

The princess stared at him, her mouth open for a moment before she snapped it shut and straightened, crossing her arms. The others slowly rose, not knowing what else to do.

“Down those stairs will take you to some caverns that run below the city. They’re fairly straightforward and easy to navigate as long as you have a magelight. You - what’s your name?” Anders pointed to one of the wardens they’d freed.

“Gu-Gustav, ser.”

“Gustav, take five of the mages with you through the caves - there shouldn’t be any darkspawn, but you should stay with them to be on the safe side. Leave markers on your way out - easy ones for a mage to find. We will be sending mages down here to escape through the tunnels and it will be easier for them if you do. Take her royal pain with you. Commander Solberg’s battalion will be nearby when you get out, they’re laying siege to the city. You - what’s your name?”

“Karla, ser.”

“Karla, you and one mage stay here and direct the others down as they come.” Anders turned to the mages. “The Rite of Annulement has been sent for, you’ll need to decide who will stay with Karla.”

An two of the older mages came forward. “I will stay with the Warden, ser, but take Jakob with you. He knows the layout of the Circle and will be able to help convince any others you come across that you are in earnest.”

“Thank you. Any ideas where they’re keeping the First Warden?”

“He was down here,” the princess spoke up, uncrossing her arms. She was rather pretty when she wasn’t yelling, something in the back of Anders’ mind decided. “They took him up about an hour ago.”

“Probably because of the army outside the gate,” Jens suggested. Anders nodded in agreement, scratching his chin.

“Alright then, we’ll take Jakob and go upstairs to find him. If things get too hot down here, take as many as you can and run.” Anders looked to Karla, who nodded. “There are two dead templars downstairs and this one up here, so you two better arm yourselves as well as you can. The rest come with me.”

Anders moved toward the staircase leading up into the building, already feeling much better now that he was out of those damned caves. Pausing, he turned to the princess and gave a half-mocking bow.

“With your permission of course?”

She glared at him, lips pursed. “What is your name, Warden?”

“Commander Raghnall Skovsgaard, Arl of Amaranthine, at your services, highness. Though most people just call me ‘Anders’.”

He smirked to himself as he walked up the stairs at the sudden outburst of talking that followed his declaration, his wardens following meekly behind. He never could resist a dramatic exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Nalls? Det är jag, Jens. Du är säker_. = Nalls? It's me, Jens. You're safe.
> 
>  _Jens? Sover far? Du kommer att få problem om han märker dig_. = Jens? Is father asleep? You will get in trouble if he catches you.


	23. Harrowing Chamber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for evil cliffhanger and some blood.

“Are you really Anders?” Jakob asked, staring at Anders with a bit of awe. “The healer, Anders? From Kirkwall?”

Maybe he should have thought it through before he’d mouthed off to the princess, but she was a brat and teenagers annoyed him and he’d just gotten out of a tiny space.

_Dear Maker,_

_Fuck you._

_~Anders_

He sighed.

“Yes. That’s me. I travelled with the Champion of Kirkwall, I blew up a Chantry, and started this whole fucking mess.”

“They were meeting about that. When the templars attacked. The King was here with his daughter and the First Warden and the Grand Cleric of the Anderfels. They were discussing how to handle things when the war came here with the First Enchanter. Then the Knight Commander came in and took everyone hostage, but he sent the King back and kept the Princess.”

“The Grand Cleric is a prisoner too?”

“I think so. She was very angry with the Knight Commander. He took her to the Chantry though. I don’t think he’d hurt her.”

“In there, ser,” Kara touched Anders’ arm and pointed to a few doors ahead.

“Jakob?”

“Dormitories. There should be apprentices in there. Templars might be inside, but they probably just locked them in. Most of the templars I think went out into the city. They just left enough here to keep us under control - though there may be more upstairs. That’s where they usually are.”

“Cas?”

The elf went over to the first door, fishing out his lockpicks and prodding at the door for a while before shaking his head.

“Needs a magic key, ser.”

“Jens, Eila, and Kara, go on down the hall and make sure it’s clear of templars. I’ll open this.” He smiled slightly and gestured for Cas to move aside. The dorms were not anti-magic areas, they were just locked with magic keys and then left to the assumption that the apprentices would be too scared to try and break out. Which usually worked.

Unfortunately, Anders knew that trick.

When Jens returned with the others a few minutes later, the door was gone, a pile of ash and metal in the archway where it had been. The apprentices, all children under twenty, were already filing out toward the dungeon entrance.

“That’s how you open a magical lock, Cas,” Anders was saying as the elf rolled his eyes. When all the children had gone, they moved down to another set of doors and repeated the process.

“How are things up ahead?” Anders asked, looking at Jens as he directed teenagers down the hall toward Jakob.

“Too quiet, ser,” Kara replied, shaking her head. “There was no one. Two more sets of what look like dormitories and then a staircase.”

“Jakob, how many floors are there to this Circle?”

“Three, but it’s two buildings. They’re connected on the second floor by a bridge. The other side is classrooms, the cafeteria, the library, the Tranquil dormitories, the phylactery reliquary is in the basement of that building... the templar dormitory is on the third floor on the other side, as well as the First Enchanter’s office. Above should be another dormitory for mages, enchanters and senior enchanters, and then the Harrowing chamber is at the top. I’d guess that’s where the First Warden is, unless he’s on the other side. There may be more mages over there too. Depending on if they locked anyone into the classrooms or not.”

Anders hesitated a moment, frowning.

“Jakob, go ahead with Casmir and open the other dorms on this floor. See if any of the apprentices know if there are others in the other building. Eila go with them. Jens, Kara stay here.”

He untied his long hair and ran a hand through it before retying it again. He needed a haircut.

“What do you think?” Anders asked after a moment of staring at the floor, thinking. He knew what he wanted; he wanted to storm every floor, clear out every room, save every mage; but he also knew that was impractical with only four wardens and himself. They couldn’t rely on the mages to help. It’d be no different than the Gallows. Children and inexperienced enchanters being massacred by templars or turning to blood magic in fear. It was better to get them out.

“We should free as many in this building as we can and check the top for the First Warden. If he isn’t there, then we can move to the other building, but we probably shouldn’t overreach ourselves if we don’t have to,” Kara said, and Jens nodded in agreement.

“Yes, it is too dangerous for us to push too far from our escape route unless we have to.”

Anders rubbed his face and pointed the first of the apprentices to come down the hall toward the dungeon.

“I knew you’d say that.”

When they’d finished clearing the first floor of apprentices, they moved on to the second floor. Here were the enchanters and senior enchanters, and it turned out a handful of templars as well. They were easily dispatched, and this time there were keys to be had.

“Jakob, do you know a mage named Katrine?” Jens asked, looking pensive as the older mages were released and told what was going on. The other mage looked thoughtful for a moment, frowning.

“She would be around thirty now,” Anders said, though he wasn’t paying very close attention to them, he was too busy trying to get information on what was above them.

“Blonde hair? She is our sister. I have not seen her since she was six years old,” Jens explained with a frown. Jakob was still thinking when the last of the senior enchanters had passed them.

“That’s it... Katrine was not among them, Jens,” Anders said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “She may have been sent to another Circle, like me. Jakob, you should go with the other enchanters. I found out that the First Warden is above us with the First Enchanter, the Knight Commander and about ten templars.”

Jakob nodded and took Anders’ hand. “Thank you, Anders. I will ask among the others if they have seen your sister or know of her. You have saved many today.”

“That remains to be seen, but hopefully, yes,” Anders replied, shaking Jakob’s hand and directing his wardens toward the stairs. “Alright team, we’ve got the element of surprise. Kara did you get that extra sword? Good. Give it to Cas. Cas your mission is to make sure he and the First Enchanter are not tied or chained. If they are, you get them out of it and give the First Warden the sword as soon as you can. Otherwise get that sword to him and try to get the First Enchanter out.”

“What about you?” Jens tapped Anders’ staff, and raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve fought templars before, I’ll be alright. Just nobody get hurt, okay? I may not be able to fix you right away with ten templars hitting us with silence the moment they realise I’m a mage.”

They all nodded and prepared themselves before going up the last set of stairs.

Anders almost doubled over the moment they got into the Harrowing chamber. He was hit by silence from at least three different templars at the same time, and someone had used smite. His head was ringing, but he managed to defend himself.

He immediately backed himself against a wall, trying to find a corner or something else so that the templars had to come at him from one direction only.

Casmir had gotten around the templars, dodging and slipping through them quickly toward the other side of the room. He dropped to his knees, sliding the last few feet underneath the sword of a templar, his dagger already out and ready to cut the bonds of the older man and woman who were tied to chairs against the wall.

“Hello ser!” Casmir said with a grin as he started to cut the bonds of the First Warden and then the First Enchanter. “The Commander had a present for you ser.” Casmir pulled the sword from his belt and handed it to the older man, who grinned a little, taking it quickly and moving into the fray. 

“Ser elf, my mages - the Rite-”

“Already safe, mistress. The Commander made sure they were out before we got up here. The Princess too.” The First Enchanter sighed, putting a hand over her heart.

“Thank the Maker.”

“I’d thank the Commander, but as you like,” Cas said with a shrug. “I’m supposed to see you to the door, so you can get out and meet with your mages. Jakob might still be waiting for you downstairs. He wasn’t going very quickly if I remember.” Casmir was holding the woman’s elbow as he tried to get her back across the room. Luckily Eila had found a perch by the door and was covering him as they moved around the edge of the room.

“Your Commander is a good person then,” she said as they reached the door unharmed. Cas nodded toward Anders who had just tripped a templar with his staff before kicking his attacker in the head. Even now, it was difficult for him to outright kill anyone.

“He’s a bit odd, but then he’s lived in Ferelden for a while, I hear,” Cas replied and opened the door for her. “Down to the ground floor, ma’am. Out through the dungeon. Let Kara know that you’re the last one so she can go through with you. They’ll take you to the Warden army outside the city.”

Before she could reply, Casmir had run back into the fray, sliding across the floor to hamstring a templar that was harassing Jens.

Anders was starting to tire. He’d been hit with smite and silence so many times he felt like he couldn’t see straight. Which was probably why he didn’t notice the templar he’d kicked in the head earlier was waking up.

He did see Jens running toward him though as the templar he’d been fighting fell to the ground. He heard Jens calling his name, but it sounded so far away and he wasn’t sure why. Everything suddenly sounded muted.

Looking down, he saw the templar on the ground in front of him, and the templar’s sword pushed to the hilt into his stomach. The templar had an arrow sticking out of his neck and Anders thought it was strange that he didn’t feel anything. He could see the blood already soaking through the padding that served as mage armour for wardens. Anders put a hand on the hilt of the sword, making a soft sound of surprise as he sunk to the floor.

The last thing he remembered was Jens lowering him the rest of the way and cradling his head gently.


	24. The Joining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Character Death

As soon as the door closed behind Anders, Fenris was on his feet. First he went to the door, intending to go after the mage, but he paused, turning around again. Anders was obviously still upset by what had happened yesterday, but to do this? To run off to Hossberg without him? Was he trying to get himself killed?

The mage was so frustrating sometimes. Fenris paced around the room, trying to decide if he’d just ignore his ‘orders’ and follow anyway, or if he should just go with the soldiers in the morning to Hossberg. That was probably his better option, if he caught up with Anders too quickly the idiot would probably send him back again.

The stupid, selfish, idiotic, moronic, impossible, ridiculous, frustrating, aggravating, annoying _mage_.

His markings flared brightly for a moment, and on impulse he picked up a cup from the table - left over from his meager breakfast - and threw it at the wall.

Almost immediately, Fenris gasped in pain - the scratching, scritching, creeping, crawling, squirming noises blared loudly in his mind, giving him a clear picture of every warden in the fortress for a brief moment before the world went dark.

He awoke and desperately wished he hadn’t. His head was pounding and the sunlight was too bright. Fenris groaned and rolled over, pulling a pillow over his head and tried to ignore the fuzzy animal that was purring and rubbing against his arm.

“You’re awake!”

Fenris whimpered softly and tried to burrow deeper into the pillow. It was like the worst hangover he’d ever had. As he woke up more, flashes of caves and caverns and monsters came to mind, indicating his dreams had been eventful even if he didn’t remember them. A hand was touching his shoulder and then moving the fuzzy thing away, and gently moving the pillow.

“Fenris? Here, it’s a potion, it should help with your head. Are you alright?”

“You’re talking too loud, Connor,” the elf replied, but he took the vial from the young mage and swallowed it quickly.

“I found you in your room, unconscious. A handful of the older Wardens were brought in too, all with massive headaches and dreams of caves and darkspawn - even though they’d all been awake at the time.”

Fenris sat up slowly, rubbing his temple and opening one eye. He was in the infirmary, and the fuzzy thing was Pounce, who had jumped back into his lap and was rubbing against him and purring loudly.

“I’d gone to see if An-Um... Nalls was in your room, so he could take a look at them, but I found you like that instead. Where is he, anyway?”

“Gone,” Fenris replied. “Can I get some water?”

“Gone?” Connor moved to a small table and poured a glass for Fenris, handing it to him and sitting down again. “Where?”

Fenris took the glass and chugged the fluid, washing the taste of the potion out of his mouth. His head was starting to feel a little better now, but he really wanted to go sleep for a while longer. 

“Hossberg. Mission for Solberg to save the First Warden,” Fenris replied. He opened his other eye and squinted in the evening sunlight, frowning. “What time is it?”

“Just after dinner. Actually I have to go. I was just on my way out when you woke up.”

“Go where?”

“Um....” Connor flushed and looked away. “To the Main Hall. Um... Varania told me there’s a Joining tonight. Then the new recruits will go with the army tomorrow to Hossberg.”

“Tonight?!” Fenris’ eyes widened and he struggled with the blankets around his legs, trying to get out of the bed. “Varania told you? Is she taking the Joining?”

“Yes, she is,” Connor replied, standing himself. “I think she’s in the hall already, though they’re not starting the ceremony for another hour I think.”

Fenris threw the blankets onto the cot he’d been laying on, covering Pounce (to Pounce’s annoyance) and stumbled out of the room as quickly as his throbbing head would allow. If she was taking the Joining this evening... 

He needed to speak with her first. Just in case.

He found her in the Great Hall, which was probably four times the size of the one at Vigil’s Keep, staring up at the paintings and walking amongst the other Wardens and recruits that had arrived early.

“Varania!” he called to her and winced. She turned, looking at him in surprise as he came up, taking her elbow and leading her, a little forcefully, to a corner. “I want to speak with you.”

“You have had days to speak with me,” she replied, pulling her arm from his grip and rubbing it with a frown. “What do you want?”

He hesitated, glancing around the room, his brow furrowed. Fenris had been angry at his sister when she’d betrayed him. Over time the anger had slowly ebbed, and when he’d seen her again in Cumberland, it was replaced by fear. Fear at what she thought of him, fear of what she felt, fear of her own anger after the things she’d said to him on her way out the door of the Hanged Man.

He had travelled with her from Cumberland, across Nevarra, and Tevinter, and into Weisshaupt, barely speaking to her at all - though he watched her. Like a hawk, even. He kept the more frisky of the waggoners away while they were with the caravan, and he’d been keeping an eye on Erik and Anders. No one was going to hurt his sister, not after everything else that had happened.

Now she was about to take the Joining, and he had so many things he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to say them.

“Fenris?”

He reached out, tentatively this time, and took her hand, looking at her fingers; the calluses from her job as a seamstress; the years as a house slave; the sun damage and freckles across the back of her hand. A small smile crept along the edge of his mouth, even as he hid behind his bangs to look at her hand. She had always been oddly fair-skinned for a Seheron elf. He remembered her getting sunburnt all the time, or freckled, and how angry she would get.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice low.

“What brought this on?” Fenris looked up at her, seeing the surprise and worry on her face. He glanced around the room again, pursing his lips. He wasn’t good at this. The only person he was any good at talking to was Anders, and only then because they’d fought so much there was nothing either of them could say to each other that they hadn’t already said something else a thousand times worse at some point.

“Connor said... that there was to be a Joining?”

“Yes, soon in fact.”

“I... I wanted to talk to you before it happened.”

“Why can’t you talk to me afterward?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. He closed his eyes, pained for a moment, and focused on her hands again. They weren’t supposed to talk about it, so he couldn’t tell her. She would find out soon anyway. He just... wanted to be sure she knew, in case something happened.

“I just... I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you that. I’m... I’m glad Hawke and Varric stopped me then. I’m glad you didn’t get taken back to Tevinter. I’m glad you were in Cumberland. I’m glad I saw you again.”

Varania smiled and pulled her hands from his. She hesitantly moved forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry too, Leto. I’m glad I’ve gotten to see you again too. I’m glad you’re happy now.”

She pulled away and pushed his hair from his face fondly. “We’ll talk later, alright?”

He nodded with reluctance before letting her go; watching her move back toward the front of the hall with the other recruits. Fenris frowned slightly as he noticed a brown head mixed among them that was familiar.

Connor.

What in Andraste’s name was that child doing up there?

Fenris started to move forward to find out when Commander Solberg entered the room, the Joining Cup following behind her.

“Recruits, please form a line here. All others please keep to the back. There will be time to welcome our new members after the ceremony.”

Connor and Varania both got into the line and Fenris swallowed. The mage was going to take the Joining too. That stupid boy. They hadn’t told him what the Joining was, but Fenris was sure they’d never need to explain it to him. Connor would be taken back to the palace eventually, and with Anders’ example as a mage with a title, Connor would probably be allowed to inherit Redcliffe as he was meant to.

“Join us, brothers and sisters,” Solberg’s voice rang out across the hall as the ritual began. He remembered it vaguely, his own ritual having been somewhat hurried.

“Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn.” She took the cup from the warden next to her and walked forward to the first recruit in the line. Fenris did a quick count and saw there were twenty of them. He was surprised to see so many - Fereldens did not seem so quick to join the Wardens, though he supposed they were still gaining confidence after a four-hundred year hiatus from the country.

“And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you.”

The first recruit took the cup and drank from it. The room was hushed, and it seemed as if everyone was holding their breath as the young man fainted after a moment. Then the next. And the next.

It was the sixth recruit that was the first to put the fear of the Joining into the others. Her death was gruesome, as she choked and convulsed on the floor in front of the others. He could see the remaining recruits were now trembling as the Commander calmly moved to the next in line as if nothing had happened.

To the side, there were people coming in and taking each person back out again, he supposed either to the infirmary or elsewhere until a pyre could be built.

It was nerve-wracking to watch as Solberg moved down the line, one by one. Finally, she came to Varania. His sister took one moment to glance into the crowd, saw him and smiled, before taking the cup.

Almost immediately he could see something was wrong. She doubled over in pain, and he heard himself cry out, trying to move forward, but there were people holding him still, grabbing his arms. First one, then two, three, four. Fenris eventually found himself watching as someone carried her body away gently, from the bottom of a pile of seven wardens. 

He hiccoughed softly and pressed his forehead to the floor. The room was spinning and his head was pounding and there were too many Tainted people here, and he hated them all. They let her die, let her drink that vile poison. She wasn’t ill, she could have continued on, as a translator or a seamstress or even have come back to Ferelden with him. He felt his body shake and shudder with surpressed sobs. The weight on him lessened and he breathed in raggedly, curling in on himself. He was helped up by someone and led out after the last recruit had drank from the cup.

“Yer girlfriend?”

Fenris stumbled a little in the hallway, and looked up at the large, furry man that was holding him up before shaking his head.

“Sister,” he replied softly.

“Ah. I’m sorry for your loss then.”

Fenris allowed the man to lead him further down the hallway, finally stopping at the infirmary. “Got another one for you, Nell. His sister was a recruit. She didn’t make it,” he said, handing Fenris off to someone else and patting the elf on the back.

“Fenris? Back again? This just isn’t your day, is it?” He heard the familiar voice of one of the healers as she led him over to the same cot he’d been occupying earlier. She pressed a vial into his hands. “Take this, dear. It’ll help you sleep and perhaps help your head too.”

He nodded absently, and drank the vial down before curling up on the cot and turning away from the room, toward the wall.

Fenris sat up suddenly, fighting the sleepiness that was washing over him. “Connor? Where’s Connor?!”

Nell came over to him again and put a blanket over him, pressing him back into the cot. “He’s fine, Fenris. He’s sleeping it off. He’ll be alright in the morning.”

“Oh. Good,” Fenris replied, his eyes drooping. “Varania’s pyre...?”

“Tomorrow morning, before the army leaves they’ll have a funeral.”

“Okay.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting sleep finally swallow him for the second time that day.


	25. Camp

He had expected yelling. Possibly a smack on the back of the head.

He was not expecting this.

Fenris was sitting by the fire, curled into himself, the hood of his uniform pulled up to hide his face. He hadn’t spoken one word since they’d left the fortress with the army. When Connor had woken that morning, Fenris was there, and asked him to go down with him to see Varania’s pyre lit.

He had stood and watched the fire for some time, before going back upstairs, packing his bags, and collecting Pounce. Connor was given a new staff, and some mage armour, which was much warmer than his robes had been.

He looked up now and saw the heavy clouds above, blocking the moon. They had arrived outside Hossberg that morning, after three days march. Commander Solberg had passed down orders, and they were told that mostly they were to stand around and look intimidating. He didn’t know what was going on, but the other wardens were nice to him, and he stuck close to Fenris. If he got into any trouble, he knew the warrior could help him.

Connor sighed, poking at the fire and looking at the others around him. There were two other new recruits, and then their squad leader - a tall woman that reminded him of Senior Enchanter Wynne - only with knives. She seemed to be ignoring Fenris, and Connor had gleaned that he wasn’t actually supposed to be there, having been ordered to stay behind. The young mage doubted that anyone was really willing to tell Fenris he had to go back though.

Fenris looked up suddenly from the cat in his lap, staring out past the flames.

“Someone is coming.”

Their squad leader, Maya, looked up, frowning and glanced out the way Fenris was looking.

“I don’t hear any-”

“Ho Camp!” someone called in a soft voice, as if they were worried that the camp might not be friendly. Connor stood up, holding his staff tightly.

“Who goes?” Maya called, standing as well and glancing at Fenris curiously for a moment.

“Warden Gustav,” came the reply.

“Approach, we are Wardens.” Maya moved to the side, allowing the light to reveal the others as they approached. Connor saw six people coming toward them, only one armed with a sword that was stuck into his belt. They were ragged and exhausted, and in dire need of cleaning.

“Thank you, Warden.” Connor recognised Gustav’s voice as the one carrying the sword and moved forward.

“Are any of you hurt?” he asked, hesitating. His healing magic wasn’t anywhere near as good at Anders’, but he was still one of the best healers the Wardens had with them at the moment.

“No child, thank you,” one of the others said with a wan smile. “We come from the Circle in the city. We were told by a blond man-”

“An annoying upstart who had the gall to call himself ‘Anders’,” came another voice. Connor watched the girl, who was probably a few years younger than him, stomp forward imperiously and glare around the fire.

“Where is your Commander!? I demand to see them!”

“This is Her Royal Highness, Princess Brigit,” Gustav said, gesturing to the young girl. The wardens around the fire (except Connor) immediately came to attention, kneeling in deference to the princess. Fenris seemed to ignore her, still petting the cat, though Connor had seen him turn his head slightly when Anders was mentioned.

“Yes, yes, get up,” she glared at Connor briefly, and then at Fenris before seeming to decide the argument wasn’t worth it and insisting once again to be taken to the Commander. Maya immediately came forward and took Gustav and the Princess further into the camp to see Solberg.

Fenris stood up the moment she was gone, Pounce climbing onto his shoulder and meowing.

“How long ago did you see him?” Fenris asked, moving to the mage that had spoken to Connor earlier. She shook her head with a frown.

“I am not sure. We were in the dungeon, so I do not know what time of day it was when we left. I think it was morning some time, the templars had brought out meal in shortly before he rescued us.”

“Which way?”

The woman pointed back toward the way they had come uncertainly. “That way. There are caves, but no torches can be used, the ceiling is too low, and the ventilation is not good. We left marks so any that came behind us could find their way more easily than we did.”

“You must all be exhausted,” Connor said, moving forward and gesturing for them to come closer to the fire. “Please, sit and rest, get some food. You’re safe here.”

He helped the mages get settled around the fire and then went to stand near Fenris, looking out into the dark.

“Well, he’s rescued the princess.”

“And apparently pissed her off too,” Fenris replied blandly.

“He’s good at that.”

Fenris made a slightly amused noise, which made Connor smile. The elf was upset and taciturn now, but he would be okay, especially when Anders came back. The Ferelden Commander would know what to do and say to get Fenris properly riled up.

About twenty minutes later, another group appeared near the camp, looking lost and mostly just following the campfires. It turned out to be more mages; apprentices and a few newly Harrowed mages. They had a similar story, of a blond man who opened their door by turning it to ash and then pointing them down the hallway; they’d followed the trail of the other group, and said there were more coming. Lots more.

The next hour was spent building more fires and trying to distribute rations among the mages that were appearing. The first fifty or so were mostly apprentices, having come from the ground floor of the circle, then another thirty trickled in, all enchanters and senior enchanters. They helped a lot by breaking the apprentices into small groups, each enchanter taking a handful. The last people to arrive was another Warden, named Karla, two senior enchanters, and the First Enchanter. 

“Where’s Gustav?” Karla asked, looking around at all the mages. 

“He went with the Princess and Warden Maya to see Commander Solberg,” Connor told them. He was kind of proud of himself for taking charge and organising the mages as they came in. Karla just nodded and went over to sit with the warden recruits.

“Where is Anders?”

Connor glanced over at Fenris, who had moved forward again, staring at the First Enchanter, who seemed to relax when she saw how many mages were there and unharmed.

“Anders?”

“Commander Skovsgaard, the one who rescued you,” Connor supplied. “Tall and blond? A mage.”

“Oh that dear young man,” the First Enchanter frowned deeply. “They are back at the cave mouth. He was very badly wounded. Luckily I hadn’t gotten very far from the Harrowing chamber when the battle was over. I am, unfortunately, an Entropy mage, so I could not do much, but they put a potion down his throat, and with my small skill he is stable, but still unconscious. I think they were going to rest at the cave mouth and wait till morning before trying to move him again.”

Fenris was already moving away from the camp, stalking off into the darkness in the direction most of the mages had been coming from. Connor moved to follow him, but stopped and turned to the First Enchanter.

“Thank you, Ma’am - do you have any Spirit Healers? Or healers?”

“Espen!” she turned and called toward the campfires. “Is Espen there?”

“No First Enchanter, he was on the other side with the Tranquil when the templars locked us in.”

She frowned, pursing her lips and sighing. “Who among the apprentices is good with creation magics?”

“Tomas is pretty good,” someone called, and a young apprentice, probably only eleven years old was pushed forward.

“So young,” the First Enchanter mumbled to herself, rubbing her face. “I am sorry young man, but this is apparently the best we have at the moment. It is difficult for our circle to get a good mix of mages - the Tevinter border between us as most of the rest of the world impedes any suggestion that mages are traded between our circle and others. We make due with what we have, but what we have are mostly force, primal, and entropy mages.”

“It’s alright, First Enchanter,” Connor told her, and took Tomas’ hand. “I’m a primal mage, but Anders has taught me everything I know of healing. Between Tomas and I, we may be able to help.” 

He smiled brightly at her and led the young boy away, trying to catch up with Fenris before the elf disappeared completely.

“Sorry to make you run, Tomas, you must be pretty tired already,” Connor said, grinning down at the young boy, who smiled shyly back. “Fenris! Wait up!”

The elf didn’t slow down at all, so they didn’t catch up to him until the firelight in the mouth of the cave was visible. As they moved closer, Connor saw five people sitting around the fire, and what looked like someone laying down to the side, out of the wind.

“Who approaches?” one of the figures called, standing up.

“Fenris, Connor, and Tomas,” Connor called to the fire, coming up next to Fenris, who had not looked like he was planning on stopping to bother identifying himself.

“Fenris! Come, come he’s over here!”

The three of them moved into the light and Connor saw two women and two men sitting around the fire. The man standing up was Jens and Connor was relieved to see him. Fenris moved past them all and settled down at Anders’ side, mumbling something that didn’t sound very polite in Arcanum. Pounce had been hanging on to the elf for dear life while they’d run, and now hopped off his shoulder and curled up near Anders’ head, purring loudly.

“We can try to help,” Connor said, gesturing to the little boy and himself. “Is anyone else hurt?”

“Just bruises and scratches,” replied the older man sitting nearest to Connor. He nodded and leaned down to Tomas.

“Can you help them, Tomas? I will check Anders, okay?” Tomas watched his mouth very carefully, squinting in the firelight and Connor frowned, looking up at the Wardens. “I don’t speak Anders...”

Connor waited while someone said something to the boy in the harsh language, but he still didn’t respond, tilting his head and watching Connor carefully. After a moment he smiled and touched his ears and then Connor’s lips.

“I think he cannot hear.” Connor looked up at the elf that was speaking to him. “Come here to the light.”

He brought the little boy over and the elf turned him so that he could see the elf’s face in the fire and spoke slowly to him in Anders. Finally the boy smiled and nodded, immediately setting to work healing a gash across the elf’s arm. Connor sighed in relief.

It was one of those kinds of days. Of course the only creation mage they could find was deaf and spoke only Anders. Connor rubbed his face and then moved over to Anders, kneeling down to look him over.

He was pale from loss of blood, but otherwise seemed okay. Connor moved over his body, finally pulling the blanket away to reveal the blond’s torso. It was wrapped tightly in a bandage, but the bandage was already soaked through with blood, needing changed. He was also breathing slowly, but shallowly, as if it were painful to do.

“Fenris, can you help me?” Connor asked, already beginning to untie the cloths. Fenris gently lifted the tall mage up so that Connor could unwrap him more easily. When the bandages were removed, Connor closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the bundle. After a moment he had pulled enough moisture from the air to dampen the cloths and he began to clean the wound on Anders stomach. It wasn’t large, but it went all the way through, and he had to clean the wound on the back as well. They were scabbed over, and oozing blood, but the healing potion and the little bit of healing magic the First Enchanter had offered seemed to have stopped most of the bleeding.

Connor frowned and tried to concentrate, wanting to make sure that Anders had no serious internal damage. He wasn’t very good at the probing spell, though Anders had taught it to him, and after a minute got frustrated and sat back.

“Tomas!”

One of the wardens spoke to Tomas again and he went over to Connor, having been busy healing cuts and bruises of the others. The little boy frowned at the sight in front of him and moved over, sitting on Connor’s lap so he could see better. Connor watched him with curiosity as he poked and touched Anders gently before the blue healing light began to emanate from his fingertips. 

It was a few minutes before Tomas sagged against Connor’s chest, tired and tapped out. Anders’ wound was still ragged and raw across his stomach, but the mage’s colour had returned somewhat, and he sounded like he was breathing easier. Connor pet the little boy’s hair and smiled at him in thanks.

“I’ll rebandage him,” Fenris said, and Connor nodded. “Let the child rest. We’ll see how he’s doing in the morning.”

“It’s going to rain soon. We will have to move him tomorrow regardless of how he is.”

Connor looked over at the older man and then up at the sky with a frown.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, if we were in Weisshaupt it would be snow, but here in the valley, north of the mountains, it will be rain. Cold rain.”

Connor nodded and stood up, carrying Tomas over to the fire and thanking one of the wardens, who offered him a blanket to wrap the child in.

“So, Fenris, Connor and Tomas. Who are you that you come running to see this mage?”

Connor looked up at the older man again and straightened a little.

“He is our Commander. We’re from Ferelden. The First Enchanter said he was wounded so we came.”

The older man nodded, seemingly satisfied with this reply. The older man spoke in Anders with Jens for a while after that, and Connor had a feeling the topic of conversation was Anders, but he was tired, and the fire was warm, so he was soon fast asleep.


	26. Awake

He opened his eyes.

He was indoors, wrapped in blankets. He was pretty sure this was not where he was when he’d passed out. In fact, he distinctly remembered being in a Harrowing chamber with templars trying to kill them, not laying in a plush bed.

The door across from the bed opened and Anders tried to push himself into a sitting position to see who it was. He hissed in pain but completed the motion anyway, noting that he was not wearing a shirt, and that the bandage around his torso was probably due for a change.

“Oh! You’re awake, Ser!”

Anders found himself looking at a young woman in servants clothing carrying a basin and a towel.

“Um....”

She put the basin down and almost ran out of the room. He could hear her through the doorway calling to people and telling them he was awake. He heard what sounded like a pack of mabari scrambling in the hall and suddenly his door was filled with people trying to get in. Eventually a little boy that Anders had never seen before crawled under the other men trying to get in and wandered over to Anders with a bright smile. He climbed into the bed and tugged at Anders’ blanket, which Anders tugged back at, not sure about this child that apparently wanted to look at his bandages. The boy sighed and pursed his lips at Anders then tugged on the blanket again, but Anders pulled it back up to his chin, frowning. 

The little boy clapped his hands loudly and turned to the men in the doorway, who were still arguing with each other about who got to see him first, trying to get their attention. It was then that a woman came through the door, pushing everyone out of her way and hurrying over to his bedside.

She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed his forehead. He could hear her babbling in Anders and pushing his hair from his face, petting him, hugging him.

It was all rather awkward.

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” he finally managed to croak, looking between the little boy who was still trying to look at his bandage and the babbling woman.

“You’ve been unconscious for days,” Connor said from the door. Jens and Fenris both moved forward, Fenris settling on one side of the bed and Jens trying to calm the old woman.

“Huh?”

“You were wounded by a templar blade, you lost much blood, and there were no healers available to help,” Jens said and Fenris nodded.

“This boy was the best healer they had available among the mages, so Connor brought him to you to help. Then we took you back to camp and you were in a tent for a day and a night.”

“At that point, the First Warden and Commander Solberg had hung the Knight-Commander’s head on a pike and put it outside the city gates for the templars to see. They finally opened up and surrendered.” Connor sat on the end of the bed, gesturing to the little boy as he spoke.

“I guess the citizens of the city weren’t very happy with them either and they were having just as many problems behind the gates,” Fenris continued with a nod. “So they surrendered. There weren’t more than two-hundred of them running around, and without the Knight-Commander, they were a bit unsure how to proceed.”

“So we were inside the city by the next day, and you were given a room in the palace. Since you rescued the Princess and the King wanted you to be healthy and whole again.”

“The mages?” Anders’ throat was raw and dry from disuse, and the little boy made a ‘naughty’ motion at him with his fingers before tapping Connor and pointing to a pitcher. The young man got up and poured Anders a glass of water, which he drank greedily.

“All the ones you got out were fine. There were some in the other building, where the templars were housed though,” Connor told him, frowning and glancing at the others.

“They had been killed,” Fenris stated bluntly. “The mages in the infirmary, the dining room, the library, and most of the Tranquil.”

“The First Enchanter told me that there had been two Spirit Healers and four creation mages in the infirmary,” Connor explained. “So Tomas was the only creation mage for miles, and I was the best trained one, since you taught me all the things you could. I started teaching anyone else that could do it, and we’ve spent the last few days healing city-folk, soldiers, guards, and the like. The wardens are clearing each area of the city, making sure there are no templars hiding. The King has been in talks with the First Warden, Commander Solberg, the First Enchanter, and the Grand Cleric about what to do with all the Orlesian soldiers and the templars.”

“There were only seventy-five templars among them, the rest were soldiers, disguised. The Grand Cleric is furious,” Jens added.

“I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?”

Fenris nodded and tugged at Anders’ blanket. “Now let Tomas and Connor change your bandage and then you can sit and talk more.”

Anders rolled his eyes, but complied as the others left the room to give him a little privacy. The old woman seemed reluctant to go, but Jens spoke to her softly in Anders and she finally capitulated, allowing herself to be led from the room.

“You know, he hasn’t left this room until today, and then only because we forced him to go out and bathe, eat, and change clothes,” Connor said as he started to untie Anders’ bandages.

“Who? Jens?”

“Fenris, idiot.”

“Oh.”

Anders winced as the bandages were removed and looked down at the ragged scar on his left side.

“We think the sword that stabbed you had mage-bane on it. Tomas healed most of your insides up, and your back, but this one was harder to close, and you were unconscious for so long. Even with the blood loss we expected you to wake earlier.”

Anders felt the tingle of magic as Tomas probed his wound gently. He was not used to being on the other end of someone else’s magic like this, and he didn’t like it.

“Does he just not talk or what?” Anders asked, poking at Tomas’ side. The little boy thwacked Anders’ fingers without looking up from what he was doing.

“He’s deaf, but he can read lips I think. At least, people who are speaking Anders. He and I have worked out a system of hand signals though.” Connor grinned.

“...Of course. And why are you wearing warden armour?”

“Um.... I sort of... Um... joined.”

“What?” Anders’ voice was flat and he narrowed his eyes at the brown-haired mage. Connor rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

“I took the Joining. The evening you left. Varania and I both did with another eighteen recruits.”

“How many died?”

“Four,” Connor said, looking at the floor. “Including Varania.”

Anders closed his eyes briefly before making a pained face and squirming under Tomas’ ministrations.

“Ow! Stop-Come here.” The older mage grabbed the child and settled him onto his lap carefully and began to examine his ears. Tomas pursed his lips and then shifted around so Anders could continue to check his ears while he continued to clean Anders’ stomach. Connor just snickered.

Ten minutes later Jens came back in with Fenris and the old woman to find Anders and Tomas still attempting to examine one another without success, and Connor sitting to the side, laughing at them.

“Come on, Tomas...” Jens leaned over and picked the boy up, who fought and made a series of angry gestures, mostly directed at Anders.

“He still hasn’t had a chance to check him,” Connor said, catching his breath. “They’ve been wrestling the whole time.”

“I can heal myself,” Anders retorted and put his hands over the wound. Tomas calmed down in Jens’ arms to watch the blue healing light in Anders’ hands with great interest. When he was done, there was a red line, but nothing else. “It’ll leave a scar, but it’s not too bad.”

“Nalls?” Anders looked up at his brother and smiled. Jens gestured to the old woman he’d been comforting, who looked like she was vibrating with happiness next to him. Anders blinked at looked at her then back to Jens, confused. She was small, with white-grey hair, probably in her sixties or seventies, with large blue eyes.

“Raghnall,” she said and moved to the side of his bed, biting her lip and gazing down at him. “Nalls. _Min_ Nalls.”

He stared at her a moment before speaking, her voice suddenly familiar to him. Rougher, older, but familiar. “ _Mamma?_ ”

She nodded and sat down, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Anders didn’t know what to do or say, but put his arms around her as well, looking over her head at his brother. Jens turned to Connor and handed Tomas off to him. The young man nodded and took Tomas to the door, and Fenris turned to follow.

“Fenris?” The white haired elf paused in the doorway.

“Hm?”

“Please stay.”

The elf coloured slightly, glancing at the intimate moment with Anders’ family, but the mage seemed very determined for the elf to stay - mainly because Anders was still not comfortable with his family and Fenris was a familiar entity and he wanted something familiar nearby.

Besides, the elf had promised never to leave him alone.


	27. Lunch with the King

He couldn't stop staring. He was trying very hard not to, but Anders was making it difficult.

After his family had left the room the night before, Anders had asked Fenris to help him rebandage his torso. Anders was fairly sure he had bruised some ribs, and that wasn't really something he could heal - he just had to bandage himself up and wait it out.

Then Fenris had gone off to his own room and left Anders sleeping.

That morning, he'd received an invitation from a servant - the King had requested his presence at lunch this afternoon. He managed to get the servant to tell him that the First Enchanter, the Grand Cleric, the First Warden, Commander Solberg, Jens, Casmir, Kara, Eila, and Anders had all been invited as well. He went to take a bath, and returned to find a manservant waiting for him.

Then he was given a haircut, a manicure, brushed, clothed, tugged, adjusted, and basically manhandled into looking presentable for the meeting. Fenris was almost ready to rip the spine out of the pushy servant when he was rescued by a knock at the door, which was opened to reveal Anders.

It wasn't Anders as had had been the last six months, however. His long hair had been cut to just past his shoulders and was braided back away from his face in a style that Fenris recognised as Ferelden (in fact, he was fairly sure he'd seen Nathaniel's hair like that a few times when the rogue wasn't in a hurry). His face... well it was visible again. The full beard that the mage had been sporting - in a silly effort to disguise himself somewhat - for months now was completely gone.

He had been put into a long, loose-fitting tunic of Warden blue, with silver embroidery around the collar and cuffs. It was over a pair of black breeches, that were much more form-fitting than the baggy trousers Anders usually walked around in, and a matching pair of knee-high black boots. A belt was slung around his hips in an attempt to possibly do something with the tunic, but since his chest was still bound (Fenris could see the top of the bandage peeking through the slit in the collar of the tunic), it was more of a decoration than something to actually help Anders keep his clothing on.

Fenris had swallowed and stared. Then flushed and looked away at his own reflection. He didn't hear the discussion going on around him as Anders directed the manservant to do something - his heart was pounding in his ears. He knew Anders was vaguely attractive - the mage had always been so; it was just when he opened his mouth that his attractiveness lessened. Though lately, when he opened his mouth it seemed a lot more attractive than it used to.

Suddenly, Fenris had found himself being haughtily re-clothed with something that covered his arms better and handed a pair of black gloves. He blinked in confusion and looked at the gloves, then at the servant, who seemed annoyed; and finally at Anders, who nodded. He pulled them on with a shrug and thanked the servant before following Anders out of the room.

Which brought him to the staring again.

"I look like Nathaniel, don't I?" Anders said, bringing the elf's eyes up quickly. Fenris could feel himself flushing again and looking away. "It's alright, you can say it. I do."

Anders sighed melodramatically as they followed another servant down the hall toward the room they would be dining in. "I tried to stop them, but the manservant told me I looked like an Avvar barbarian and to shut up and sit down or he'd tie me down."

Fenris snorted, focusing very hard on the back of the servant's head.

"The shirt is too soft, I keep thinking I'm walking around half-naked. And these breeches are too tight - how do you stand it?" The elf took a slow, deep breath as they walked, trying very hard not to let his imagination run away with that. 

"Why did you make me change?" he asked instead, changing the subject. Anders seemed to hesitate before answering, and Fenris saw him glance toward the servant.

"I will tell you later," he said, and Fenris frowned. The only thing the change of clothing had done, was to cover all of his markings except his chin and neck, which seemed odd to Fenris. He didn't have much time to mull over it however, as the servant finally opened a pair of doors and announced them to a room full of people. Fenris found himself being seated next to Casmir and Eila - near the end of the table he noted wryly. He supposed he should be thankful that the King had even allowed the elves to eat in the same room as him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to feel anything other than annoyance.

Anders was seated much higher up the table, across from the First Warden, at the King's right - which Fenris vaguely remembered as a place of honour. That was good right? It meant the King wasn't planning on throwing Anders in a dungeon or sending him packing to Orlais.

"Welcome all," the King said, rising from his seat and gesturing to the table. He appears to be around the same age as Jens, with thick brown hair and a large brown beard. His eyes were kind, and his smile was broad. "Thank you for joining me for luncheon today. I thought we would have much to discuss, and I wished to honour those that rescued my daughter."

The four wardens at the table that had been with Anders ducked their heads in thanks to the King. "I was hoping that we could all discuss what the First Warden, First Enchanter, Grand Cleric, and I have been discussing these last few days, and see what your thoughts on the ideas were."

Fenris looked surprised, as did Anders, that the King was actually asking the opinion of people who were not really important in the grand scheme of the kingdom.

"But first, let us eat."

With that, the lunch began. Servants brought out wine and plates of food. It appeared they would be having a light lunch, cold ham, some greens, cheese, and bread. The wardens all tucked in, obviously uncomfortable eating in front of the King, but their warden appetites eventually won out. His Majesty seemed prepared for this however, and the food kept coming until everyone was satisfied.

"We have been discussing what to do with the templars and soldiers that are currently our prisoners. I wanted to hear how Ferelden has dealt with their own Orlesian problem from you, Commander," the King leaned back in his chair and gestured to Anders.

"They were expelled. Sent back to Orlais."

"Soldiers and all?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't that just bolster the Orlesian army again?" Commander Solberg pointed out with a frown. "Giving their soldiers back?"

"The soldiers were claiming to be Templars," Anders replied with a shrug. "We could not prove they were otherwise, except for the word of the Knight-Commander, and Anora did not want to give the Divine an excuse to call for an Exalted March by killing them or imprisoning them."

"He has a point," the Grand Cleric said with a nod. "Ferelden is still not very strong militarily yet. Not after expelling Orlais only very recently, and then contending with the Blight. She would not have the resources yet to confront an Exalted March."

"Exactly," Anders agreed with a nod.

"We however, have a very large army that is always at the ready," Commander Solberg pointed out with a small smile.

"But that army is supposed to remain neutral in terms of politics," Fenris said from the end of the table. He leaned back and crossed his arms. "Why would the Wardens care who is in charge of the country as long as they are allowed to fight darkspawn unhindered?"

"He is right," the First Warden said, pursing his lips. "We are not supposed to get involved."

"However..." Anders smiled a little. "When templars are specifically targeting Wardens... isn't that practically declaring war on them? They're impeding our efforts by trying to cage Warden mages, control the First Warden, attack Warden outposts and patrols... I believe the Empress is scared of us. We are the largest army in the world, and we have no loyalties or affiliations outside of titles in the Anderfels, and titles in Ferelden. If we are given titles elsewhere, then we are more likely to defend our interests in those places, and those are contrary to Celene's."

The First Warden smiled at Anders and nodded.

"So the Wardens are perfectly within their rights to defend the borders of the Anderfels and the borders of Ferelden, or anywhere else they are stationed against those that would threaten them, purely because they are also threatening the Wardens themselves?" the King raised his eyebrows, surprised by the logic. "What if the Orlesians call on their Wardens to fight for them? Would you pit yourselves against each other?"

"There would be no need," the First Warden replied. "I have spoken to the Commanders of our Orlesian forces. They have not outright attacked the Warden outposts in Orlais, but missives have been sent, requesting their mages to be turned over as well. They will not help Orlais fight other countries. We also have no titles in Orlais, so we are under no obligation to provide soldiers for the crown there."

"So we could deal with the templars and soldiers as we please, and not have the fears of immediate retribution?"

"Yes."

"Good, then I suggest we send the templars back, with a small exception to be hand picked by the Grand Cleric and the First Enchanter to remain at the Circle to protect the mages there. The soldiers will be put into labour camps. Our roads are in desperate need of work." The King grinned across the table and there was a chuckle from the Anders that were sitting there.

"How does this sound to the rest of you?" he called down to the wardens at the end of the table. There were nods all around, they all seemed to agree with this solution. "Good! Next, the mages - The First Enchanter has decided that they will remain in the Circle, correct?"

She nodded with a smile.

"Why?"

Fenris winced. It was Anders.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why stay in the Circle?"

"It's safer there, my dear, I'm sure you-"

"Safer how? Safer from what?"

"From the people."

"So... you're scared of non-magical people?"

"No, of course-"

"Then why segregate yourself from them? Magic is supposed to serve, right?"

"Yes of course," the Grand Cleric interjected. "Young man, I don't think-"

"No, you don't think. That's part of the problem with the world right now. No one thinks about it." Anders leaned forward, glaring at the two women. "You could be using your magic to help the people. I know you don't have many healers, but you can still help. You can lift stones, you can dig in frozen soil, you can clean, sew, write, read, grow, and create! The Anderfels especially needs help with these things. Start a library! Start a school! Teach the populous to read and write! Help repair walls and buildings! Make potions and salves! Don't lock yourselves up in the circle because you believe the people can't accept you."

"How many of your mages are from the Anderfels originally?" Fenris spoke up from the other end of the table, smiling slightly at Anders. "How many still have family here? Yes, people will be scared at first, as they are of all things new, but they will quickly see the good that you can do."

Anders looked at him, surprised for a moment before smiling broadly and nodding. "Ask Commander Solberg how many of the townsfolk around Weisshaupt came running to the Fortress when they heard a Spirit Healer was there? Those people are used to mages, because the Wardens have mages wandering all over the place. They know the mages can help them if they ask for it. They're scared because they see Tevinter next door and see how magic can be abused. Show them how magic can benefit them. Show them that not all mages are magisters. Also," Anders looked at the King, "Think how the mages could benefit your army if the Orlesians did attack. Think of all the enchantments on weapons and armour, all the magical items and runes that could be made. Think of fire and ice and lightning raining down on your enemies. Think of the healers behind fixing your soldiers as fast as they are wounded."

The First Enchanter and the Grand Cleric both looked at each other and then to the King for a moment, flabbergasted by Anders' outburst. Finally the Grand Cleric nodded thoughtfully.

"We will consider your words and discuss it. That is all I can promise you."

"I guess that will have to do," Anders replied, pursing his lips, but Fenris could tell the mage was much more pleased than he let on.

"So you are that mage then, aren't you?" The King was leaning forward again, looking at Anders keenly. The mage blinked and frowned, unsure of what the King was trying to say. "The mage that started this mess. Did they not listen to your reasoning in Kirkwall? Is that why the Chantry there is a pile of rubble? Was that your idea of serving man?"

Anders coloured darkly as all eyes around the table rested on him suddenly.

"My daughter told me. She said you had called yourself 'Anders' when she asked your name."

Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose and covered his face. The stupid, stupid mage. Anders straightened in his seat then, looking defiantly at the King.

"Yes, that was me. I did it. What are you going to do about it? Will I be thrown in the dungeon after this? Turned over to the Divine? Sent back to Kirkwall?"

The King looked at him shrewdly before looking over at the First Warden, who was gazing impassively at Anders.

"No, you will continue as you have been. I just wanted to confirm it was you."

Anders blinked in surprise. "Pardon?"

"We have heard all sorts of rumours out of Kirkwall and elsewhere telling us what happened there... but there have been enough people to get through Tevinter from the Free Marches to give us a general idea of what happened. The templars took over the city - they would not listen to reason - and were illegally making Harrowed mages Tranquil. The Grand Cleric did nothing, the Viscount was killed during an attack by the ox-men, and you were there with the Champion in the middle of it all."

"One of the mages from the Gallows came here and told us what happened. You met him... Jakob?" The First Enchanter said.

Anders blinked and then nodded. "Yes, he led us to the Harrowing chamber to rescue you."

"He was in Kirkwall. He told us what was going on in the circle there. How the Knight-Commander had lost her mind."

"Oh."

The King shrugged and leaned back in his chair again with a smile. "Besides, you are currently the Arl of Amaranthine, and I certainly don't want to cause an international incident with Ferelden."

Fenris let out the breath he didn't realise he had been holding. Thank the Maker. Perhaps he'd had a hand in this all along, to make Anders Commander so he'd be protected...

At least, Fenris wanted to believe that. Sometimes he wasn't sure that the Maker didn't just have a sick sense of humour and enjoyed teasing them.

"I think we've gotten all we can out of this discussion. I think we will adjourn for now and perhaps discuss things further at another time?" The King pushed away from the table and stood, soon followed by everyone else. He left the room, followed by the Grand Cleric, Commander Solberg, and the First Warden. The other wardens milled around a little, unsure of where to go, and spoke with each other. Fenris could hear them all speaking Anders, and he was fairly sure he heard Anders' name a few times in there, even if he didn't understand anything else that was being said.

"Commander? May I speak with you and your brother a moment?" The First Enchanter smiled at Anders, though Fenris could see that now she knew who he was, he made her nervous.

Jens wandered over and the three stood together for a moment, speaking quietly. Fenris stayed near the door, watching, and trying very hard to keep his eyes somewhere that wasn't Anders' broad shoulders. The blue really did look very nice on him, and the belt seemed to accentuate just how long and thin the mage was. All those feathers and the bulky coats and armour he usually wore made him seem so much bigger than he really was. 

Fenris flushed and looked away quickly as he realised he was staring again, and Anders had seemed to notice. The mage had glanced over at him and grinned before continuing his conversation. Fenris shuffled his feet and tugged at the kid gloves he'd been given, trying to find something to occupy his attention away from the idiot blond with the warm eyes and stupid smirk.

When Anders came over to him finally, he was looking concerned. Fenris pushed away from the wall and opened the door to let the mage go out in front of him.

"Like the view that much?"

Fenris could feel his ears heating up as he hurried out of the room to get ahead of Anders. He would not be accused of watching the mage walk. "What did she want to speak about?"

"My sister. Jakob told her that we were looking for Katrine. She went through some of the archives at the Circle to see if she'd ever been at that circle."

"And?"

"She had. She was taken there when she was seven. She..." Anders hesitated and frowned before shaking his head. "I'll tell you when we get back to my room. I don't want to talk about it out here."

Fenris shrugged and tried not to think of the implications of Anders wanting to go back to his room first.

When the door was closed and they were finally alone again, Anders sat on the bed, pulling his boots off. "She apparently fell in love with someone else when she was about twenty and got pregnant. The baby was taken away when it was born, of course," Anders scowled and threw the boot across the room. "She was heartbroken. Stopped talking, stopped eating, stopped everything. I've seen it happen to other women, it's a sort of depression. She eventually jumped off the roof."

"So she's dead?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Funny thing though."

"Funny?" Fenris raised an eyebrow, confused. How could anything about that be funny?

"The baby she had turned out to be a mage too."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. His name is Tomas."

"....As in?"

"Yup."

"Oh."

"He's coming back to Ferelden with us."

Fenris blinked. "Are you sure about that? You can barely take care of yourself."

Anders snorted, pulling his shirt over his head with a wince. "He needs a teacher. He's a creation mage in a circle full of entropy, primal, and force mages. The First Enchanter asked me to take him as an apprentice."

Fenris stared at Anders for a moment, the mage had stood and tossed the shirt into a corner before beginning to poke at the bandages at his side. "Fenris, have you ever noticed that our lives seem to be a giant string of coincidences that seem to work out in very odd ways for us?"

"The Maker is testing us."

"Obviously."

Fenris startled when he realised that the chest he had been staring at was now very close to him.

"You've been staring at me all afternoon. Is there something wrong?"

The elf swallowed, looking up at Anders, who was extremely close now. In fact, he was leaning closer as Fenris stared at him. "I haven't been staring!"

"Yes you have. You also didn't leave my side the entire time I was unconscious."

"That's not true! I wasn't there when you woke up!"

"Connor told me that was because he'd forced you to leave so you could bathe and rest."

Fenris' entire face felt like it was on fire. Anders was only inches away now, their noses practically touching. His voice was low too, hitting a note that seemed to shiver down Fenris' spine.

"Nonsense."

"I think you were worried about me."

"Only because Nathaniel would be mad if anything happened to you!"

"I think you care about me."

"Don't flatter yours-mmmm!"

Anders had pressed his lips to Fenris', cutting off any further argument from the elf. Fenris could feel the mage's hand trail over his jaw to cup his cheek, and he had a moment to gasp for air before Anders deepened the kiss.

He couldn't help it, relaxed against the wall, letting the moment go where it wished. The mage drove him nuts, but the past few months, he had realised he would have no idea what his life would be without him now. He couldn't even imagine being anywhere but following Anders around, trading insults, arguing, and teasing. 

Anders' other hand trailed down his arms, causing him to shiver, and rested on his hip. The kiss was lazy, and the mage didn't seem to want to take it any further than that right away.

It was the knock at the door that jarred him out of complacency. Fenris jerked away from Anders quickly, flustered and embarrassed. He moved away from Anders quickly, hoping that they didn't look suspicious to whomever came in. Behind him, Anders swore and opened the door with more than a little annoyance.

"I am sorry if I was interrupting..."

"No, I was just leaving," Fenris said, turning to see Jens at the door with Tomas. Anders looked like he was going to set his brother on fire, but Fenris almost sprinted out of the room, not waiting to see if the mage would follow through.

It was very confusing. Hadn't Anders been horrified? Repulsed? Embarrassed by the very idea that they might be lovers? Why would he kiss Fenris if that were so? The elf hurried back to his room and closed the door behind him, twisting the lock and resting his head against the cool wood for a moment.

Then he touched his lips, and smiled.


	28. Epilogue

"Anders!" Connor called into the room, looking for the mage. He came further into the room and finally spied the Commander sitting on the floor with Tomas in his lap. The child was sitting still for once while Anders was examining his ears and trying different things to see if the boy could get any of his hearing back. Connor knew that he'd spent the last two days doing that, and that Fenris had spent the last two days hiding in his room alone. Connor had a feeling something had happened, but it wasn't really his business.

"Anders!"

The blond looked up with a frown and rubbed his scruffy chin before patting Tomas on the head. The little boy got up and settled into a chair with a book as Anders pulled himself off of the floor and brushed his clothing.

"What do you need, Connor?"

"A messenger arrived today with a letter from Amaranthine for you."

"Oh?" Anders held out his hand and took the note from Connor, opening it.

_Dear A~_

_Get your skinny ass back here now._

_~N._

Anders snorted and turned the page over, looking to see if there were any other information.

"That's it?"

"Well..."

"Of course not, my friend!" 

Anders blinked and the door opened widely, revealing Zevran Arainai on the threshold. Anders blinked at him stupidly for a moment.

"Zevran?"

"Good to see you again, my beautiful phoenix. I hear you have been making quite a mess in the world lately." The elf grinned at Anders lecherously before settling himself on the edge of Anders' bed. Anders couldn't fight the warmth he could feel spreading across his face at the flirting. He had heard that Zevran had been in Kirkwall from Isabela, but had not seen the elf. 

"I... Um... It's good to see you Zevran. What brings you here?"

"I was in Cumberland doing some... odds and ends, and that message came across my path with a bundle of other things. I had business to attend to in the Anderfels, so I came, expecting to find Feyar and Alistair, but instead I find that the Commander mentioned is your handsome self instead."

"I heard there was a messan-... Hello," Fenris had come into the room, his gaze stopping on the dark-skinned elf laying across Anders' bed.

"Hello," Zevran replied, raising his eyebrows and glancing at Anders with a brief smile of appreciation. He stood up, bowing slightly to Fenris and making a great show of looking the white-haired elf up and down. Anders stepped between them suddenly and coughed.

"Fenris, this is Zevran Arainai - he was a Blight companion of Feyar's. Zevran, this is Fenris. He was a companion of Hawke's."

"It is a pleasure, Fenris," Zevran replied. "I brought a message from Cumberland for the Commander here. I was quite surprised to find it was Anders."

Anders handed the note to Fenris, who read it with an amused snort.

"It'll take almost a month to get back if we leave tomorrow, and with the winter seas..."

"I can get you to Cumberland in a week and a half, and a good ship could get you across to Amaranthine in less than a week," Zevran said, inspecting his nails.

"We'll be travelling with him," Anders pointed across the room to the child, but Zevran only shrugged.

"We'll be taking horses and travelling across the plains. Take a riverboat down the Minanter, get off at Nevarra City and take the Imperial highway down. It takes roughly nine days on horseback."

Anders blinked and looked over at Fenris who shrugged. Connor nodded in agreement.

"We should go. I miss Ferelden," the teenager said. Anders looked over at Tomas thoughtfully. They did need to get back, but it was mid-winter already in Ferelden, travelling across the Waking Sea would be horrible, but taking a boat around the entire continent will almost be worse and they'd have to deal with Qunari warship patrols. This way they'd bypass most of Tevinter.

"You can send letters," Fenris said softly. Anders blinked and then smiled, nodding. He would miss spending more time with his family. He was just getting to know his brothers again, and his nieces and nephews, and his mother....

"You're right. We should get back. Nathaniel wouldn't write if he didn't need the help. He's very capable, so if he's asking us to come back... well we should go." He turned to Zevran. "We wouldn't be interfering with your other... duties?"

"No, I have completed all I came to do here, and I had business in Nevarra that is now done. I would like to return to Ferelden as well. Especially if a certain mage will be there," Zevran said, waggling his eyebrows and grinning at Anders again. Anders looked away, embarrassed. He had forgotten how... forward Zevran was sometimes, and noticed that Fenris was watching him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

"Yes, well then we should get ready to go. There is much to do in Ferelden, and I'm sure Nate is drowning in mages and children and refugees and snow right now. Connor did you look in the library about what I asked?"

Connor nodded and shrugged. "I did but there wasn't anything. I didn't ask anyone so I may have missed something, but you didn't want me asking, so..."

"What were you looking for?" Fenris crossed his arms, obviously annoyed with Anders at the moment.

"Books about... um... your peculiar circumstances. The libraries here are very old, and being so close to Tevinter, as well as the Wardens being more open-minded about magical books than the Chantry, I had hoped... Anyway." Anders sighed.

"I see."

"I'm sorry Fenris. I've been trying to find something out, but I don't know what else we can do short of going to Tevinter to ask around. It's not like there are mages sitting around who know ancient magics and how they affect Wardens."

"What about Avernus?" Zevran tilted his head at the three men curiously.

"Who?"

"Didn't Feyar tell you about Avernus?" The Antivan looked surprised. "He was at Soldier's Peak."

"Where?" Anders was even more confused than usual now.

" _Brasca_! That woman loved to keep her secrets didn't she? There is an old Warden outpost in the mountains between Denerim and Amaranthine. The Dryden family was there last I knew, some ten years ago, cleaning the place up and rebuilding. There was also a mage, a mage Warden who had been there for four-hundred years. His name is Avernus."

Anders' eyes widened. "Maker's breath. Four-hundred...? He... What about the Calling? What... Is he possessed?"

"No, he was perfectly normal, though I believe he used blood magic to prolong his life. Feyar forbade him from continuing its use in his experiments. She spoke with him at length alone, so I do not know what he was studying for her, but I know that he was still there as recently a last year. Feyar mentioned him the last time I saw her, which was before I came to Kirkwall last year."

"He could... He could help us. He might know what to do!" Anders turned to Fenris. "What do you think? Shall we go see him? I don't want..." He lowered his voice, "I don't want the wardens here knowing about your abilities. I am worried they may try to use you for their own work, regardless of how it affects you, and if what's happening is anything close to my theories about the lyrium song, then we definitely don't want them knowing."

Fenris nodded reluctantly, not seeming very happy with the idea of speaking to a four-hundred year old blood mage, but he knew he had very little choice. As he was now, he was more a burden to the Wardens than an asset. He needed to be able to function properly as a warrior.

"Alright then. It's decided. I'll talk to the First Warden, and we'll leave tomorrow morning. Can you arrange the particulars, Zev?"

"Of course, my phoenix," Zevran replied with a smile, and stood on his tiptoes briefly to press his lips to Anders. With a brief grin and knowing look at Fenris, the blond elf skipped out of the room, leaving them to their discussions. 

He had his own agendas to fulfill, and returning to Ferelden with them would help immensely. Already the College of Magi was gathering in Cumberland, already the Empress was throwing tantrums, and already the Seekers were leaving Orlais in search of the Truth.

It was only a matter of time before the slowly bubbling cauldron of Thedas began to boil over.


End file.
